


Miniature PEGs and Childergy

by aug325, CephalonGhost



Series: Membrane's Guide to Becoming a Better Parent: LOSE YOUR FUCKING ARMS [5]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Canon Compliant, Character Development, Electroconvulsive Therapy, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gap Filler, Good Parent Professor Membrane, PTSD, Pre-ETF, Professor Membrane Tries to Be a Better Parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aug325/pseuds/aug325, https://archiveofourown.org/users/CephalonGhost/pseuds/CephalonGhost
Summary: Takes place after: "Sometimes You Have to Lose Your Arms to Learn how to Hug"Finally rehabilitated, the Professor can dedicate his focus to more important things.Like spending more time with his children.Finishing up Foodio.Developing a new energy source.Installing laser canons into his prosthetic arms.You know, normal scientist things!
Relationships: Professor Membrane & Zim's Computer
Series: Membrane's Guide to Becoming a Better Parent: LOSE YOUR FUCKING ARMS [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782715
Comments: 181
Kudos: 179





	1. Chapter 1

Membrane didn’t know how they did it.

His children, even when they were supposedly at their most exhausted, were just filled with boundless levels of energy. And while the Professor before used to pride himself in his ability to power through anything. Not even he’d possessed this same level of endurance in his prime.

If all those years before his near-death experience could even be classified as his “prime,” anyway. He hadn’t exactly been the same level of physically fit as he was now and had to put in the effort to maintain for his own well-being.

If it wasn’t physical exhaustion, and it very rarely was on the days he didn’t take part in his refinement, it was the mental variant that plagued him. Just as the Professor predicted would be the case back in the beginning stages of his recovery.

He accepted this fact just fine, having had the time to come to terms with it.

It was a majority of the members of his company, the public, practically everyone else who wouldn’t.

All it did was feed into his more bitter and spiteful nature.

And living his life in spite was what Professor Membrane did best. Nothing else came close as a personal motivator, especially on days when he needed to psych himself up before a jog to the labs.

And today was just another one of those days.

But first, he needed to get himself and his children up to have breakfast so he could see them off for their last day of the skool year. So with the level of reluctance expected of someone who despised early mornings, he hopped out of bed and made his way over to his closet—stopping before the door and in the center of a circle that had been placed as a marker on the floor.

“Arms on.” He said with a yawn, activating the process of dressing him in the protective compression top and the attaching of his prostheses.

Four months had passed since that day in February, where he’d gotten the current prototypes. The morning and night routine of getting into position and uttering the verbal commands to arm himself, literally, or remove his prostheses piece by piece becoming his new norm relatively quickly. As was the mild discomfort that came with the whole process, his nerve endings flaring back to life at the attachment of each cybernetic component. The spinal harness’ attachment and the electrical current it sent through him always managing to jolt him into wakefulness.

A morning’s cup of coffee was obsolete by comparison.

Once the final pieces of his prostheses were in place, the Professor performed his routine test exercises and stretches. One such exercise included the repetition of an action his daughter had said resembled “dabbing,” one of those viral “memes” circling the internet these days.

“Always a good start to the day when there aren’t any faulty parts!” He rolled his neck and shoulders one final time before pumping both mechanical fists victoriously. Then after getting dressed in some of the few casual bits of clothing he owned, he was down in the kitchen in a matter of minutes to make breakfast. Something that usually would have just been a few pieces of toast with butter or jam—before Cynthia forced him to engage in the activity on the regular for his rehabilitation—that had now evolved into breakfast foods that required a bit more prep and time.

Especially after learning about the absolute shlock the skool system attempted to pass off as lunch food that his children had been forced to eat for _years_.

Needless to say, he had taken to packing them lunches to take with them just as Cynthia had done before he was able to do so by his own volition.

“Morning, daughter!” Membrane turned from the waffle batter he was mixing up to greet his little girl when he heard her footsteps coming down the stairs—he had become accustomed to the fact that Gaz always woke on her own without requiring any prompting on his end.

“Morning, dad.” She gave a mock salute as she took a seat at the kitchen table, whipping out her new handheld Game Slave console he’d gotten her for her 10th birthday just last month.

“Video games this early in the morning, honey?” The Professor lightly chided with a shake of his head when he turned his focus back to the bowl of batter. His left hand reaching to scoop up a handful of chocolate chips from the open bag he’d laid out on the counter and sprinkling them in. Thinking back to when his daughter had first gotten into video games as he did so.

...

_Gazlene was only three years old and was already showing the same level of intellectual promise as her older brother had. Perhaps even **greater** promise even._

_He discovered this the first time he chose to put her cognitive functions and critical thinking skills to the test in a lab setting. Coincidentally, the day happened to be bring-your-kid-to-work-day, so there was a slew of other children besides her brother, all a variety of ages, that Membrane could pull in at any time to compare her to. The dice of chance just happened to have rolled in his favor for him picking today of all days to run these tests. Especially since it allowed Dibromide a chance to interact with other children as he did._

_“Alright, daughter,” he said as he knelt next to his tiny_ — _so **unbelievably** tiny_— _little girl as he handed her the controller that would let her interact with the virtual puzzles and problems on the screen that sat in front of her and an older child. “These devices here,” he pointed at the one in her little hands. “Are what you will use to input your answers into the computer.” He continued to give a brief explanation of what each button did._

_Little Gazlene just nodded her head in understanding as she listened._

_“Okay, daddy.”_

_“Excellent!” He stood up to his full height as he moved to go pick up the tablet that he would be using to record his notes on. “Now once I hit this button here you can_ —”

“’m done!”

_The Professor thought his neck would almost snap with how quickly he turned himself back around to look at the screen. Glancing from it to the device in his opposite hand he had been planning to use to time her, its button still unpressed._

_“Impossible!” He quickly moved closer to the screen, finding that the problem he had constructed for a normal child more than twice her age was already correctly solved. “Not even your brother could_ _—”_

_“Can I do ‘nother?” The question was asked so innocently, Membrane could hardly contain the sense of astonishment and enthusiasm he felt at her desire to do more in the name of science._

_So he let her._

_And just like the first, she solved each and every problem or puzzle he presented for her in record time. Eventually getting to the point where he didn’t have any more for her to solve, making the little three-year-old Gaz more than a tad upset. Causing her to storm off while he was in the middle of programming more and forcing him to sprint through the building in search of her once he noticed her absence._

_When Membrane finally found her, she was sitting on the floor against the wall with a handheld game console in her hands._

_There was also an older boy sprawling on the floor of the room crying, but he opted to ignore them as he moved over to his daughter._

_“So here’s where you were!” He managed to completely mask the concern he’d felt till then as he lifted her up into his arms. And with curiosity always having been an ally of his in science, he allowed himself to take a peek at the screen of the game she was playing._

_He was more than thoroughly impressed by how well she seemed to be doing from the ever-increasing score that was shown in the upper-righthand corner._

_“Are you enjoying playing that, daughter?” He asked, receiving a little ‘mhm’ and nod in response. “Well then, I’ll definitely see to it that we stop by the store to see what other games are available for you.” He affectionately pet her head as he turned to carry her back to the lab, the question of where she’d gotten the console just on the tip of his tongue before he was approached by a member of his staff that through accusations towards his daughter bullying their child and stealing his game console._

_Membrane wouldn’t stand for such slander and accusations_

_And he made that **very** clear when he assured them how his little Gazlene couldn’t have done such a thing. Then he fired the other man on the spot and kicked him out of the labs then and there…_

...

Years later, he recognized that his little scientific marvel had indeed physically assaulted and stolen the game console from the older boy using her super-strength.

But ah well, nothing that could be done now.

And speaking of the now, Gaz was busy shoveling bits of chocolate chip waffles, scrambled eggs, and bacon into her mouth.

“Your brother is taking quite a while to wake up,” Membrane mused as he finished washing and wiping off his gloved prosthetic hands. “Did he sneak out again last night by any chance?”

Gaz shrugged and made a noncommittal sound of uncertainty as she swallowed a mouth full of waffles.

“Well, if he doesn’t come down soon he won’t have the chance to eat before you both head off.”

The Professor shook his head as he headed out of the kitchen and back up the stairs to the bedroom hallway. Calling out to Dib along the way in hopes of rousing him before he reached the door.

“Soooon, breakfast is ready!” He rapped his knuckles against the wood of the door, giving the boy a few seconds to respond before he made any further moves.

After all, the parenting books and video lectures he’d seen made it clear that respecting a child’s privacy and boundaries was a key factor in maintaining healthy familial relations!

Though there were also some that encouraged asserting one’s authority as a parent and barging full force after knocking. Whether or not the child actually answered didn’t seem to matter.

Utilizing a battering ram also seemed to be recommended for some reason.

But Membrane didn’t think he’d resort to that unless it was absolutely necessary.

“Sooooon.” He knocked s bit louder and in response heard a mumbled and barely audible: “five more minutes” from the other side of the door.

With a light click of his tongue, the Professor opened turned the knob and entered his son’s room without a moment's hesitation. Upon opening the door he immediately noticed how much of a disorganized mess the place had become since its second thorough cleaning and remodeling back in early March. Dirty laundry and other random items were strewn about the floor and practically left a trail between the closet, the bed, and a multi-monitored advanced computer system. The entire set up of displays overtaking nearly half of the entire room’s wall space.

Membrane remembered just how ecstatic his son had been the day when he and Gaz came home from skool to find both their rooms had been updated like the rest of the house. Dib especially so since the Professor hadn't gotten rid of his paranormal paraphernalia but had instead decorated his room with even more. Though the new multi-monitored computer was what he ultimately had been the most excited for after running and bouncing about the room like a metal spring that had flown off a piece of machinery.

_"Thank you so much, dad! Thank you, thank you, thank you! This is the best birthday present ever! This will make keeping watch over ZiM's base a thousand times easier!"_

Professor Membrane still didn't really understand what was going on with the strange... Game...? His son and the little green child were playing... But he didn't ask about it so as not to ruin the expression of pure joy the boy had at that moment.

Though that didn't mean it wasn't a tad concerning to see so many different angles of the other boy's house constantly displayed on each of the screens.

It was one thing to have such a system monitoring ones' own house, it was another when it was someone else's.

"Son..." Membrane lightly shook Dib by the shoulder to rouse him from where he slept atop the covers of his bed. The boy had fallen asleep while watching something on his laptop screen if it’s placement in front of him was anything to go by. “Son, it’s time to get up.“

“Mmhmm...” Dib only buried his face further into the sheets.

“Alright then...” Membrane sighed, placing his hands on his hips as he turned towards the monitors currently lighting up the room. An idea popping into his head then. “Oh look! Seems your little friend’s up and heading to skool earlier than usual.”

“ZiM?!”

Well, that had certainly done the trick. And there were those endless levels of energy again.

Not even one second after that little white lie was uttered, his son immediately sprung up, wide awake, and took a stance like he was ready to fight. It was both an adorable and amusing sight that the Professor couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Good morning to you too.”

“... Huh Wha—? Wait...” the younger Membrane blinked in confusion at the unchanged imagery on his monitors. “You _lied_ to me, dad!”

“And _you_ lied about going to bed on time,” Membrane continued to laugh as he reached forward to shut the still open laptop, his son pouting all the while. “10 o’clock bedtime means 10 o’clock bedtime. No surfing the internet to do your paranormal studies past that.”

“But that isn’t fair!” Dib argued as the Professor lifted him up under his arms and then gently threw him over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “You didn’t make us follow a strict bedtime _before!_ ”

“Because _I_ didn’t have a strict bedtime before either.” Membrane said as he went over to his son’s closet and picked out a few articles from the new wardrobe he’d taken the boy out shopping for just last week. “Cynthia would have my head if she discovered I wasn’t keeping up in taking proper care of you and your sister, let alone myself.”

“‘s still stupid.” Dib continued to complain, Membrane just vaguely aware of how he was crossing his arms passive-aggressively against his back. The sensors in the prostheses there were getting better.

The Professor just lightly pat his son’s back as he carried him out into the hall, setting him down just in front of the open bathroom door.

“Go on and get dressed quickly now,” he lightly ruffled the boy’s hair as he handed him his change of clothes. “Before breakfast gets cold.”

“... What’d you make?” Dib asked curiously while holding up the bundles of cloth to his face.

“Bacon, eggs, and chocolate chip waffles with just a dash of cinnamon. Just the way you liked having Cynthia make them.”

Dib’s eyes lit up in an instant and the bathroom door was slammed shut with lightning speed.

* * *

Membrane saw his children off to skool by watching them get on the bus from the living-room window. The blinds were drawn, preventing anyone from getting a good look at the Professor or the inside of his home, so he used his fingers to open up a gap large enough to peek through. Once the bus had cleared their street, he allowed them to shut and headed over to the door leading to their backyard.

It was time for him to start his morning jog to the labs.

Adjusting the mask Gaz had gotten him on his face, he slung a duffle bag with a set of his normal attire over his shoulders and across his chest. Then he swapped out his headset for his transitional glasses, slotting the former into the bag with the rest of his gear, and pulled on a generic sports cap.

Looking in the mirror, even with his face still covered, he looked like any average jogger without his goggles or signature hair spike. His outfit, consisting of a track jacket, workout shorts/gloves, and sneakers only helping to further sell this illusion.

No one would be able to recognize him like this, even if they happened to get up close.

He opened the backdoor slowly, poking his head out to make sure there were no eyes or cameras pointed towards his home, then once he’d locked it started his run. Hopping over the fence and into the neighboring yard, continuing into the next and several more times.

When a fence was too high he would plant a foot against the side of a house for leverage. And if it was REALLY high, he’d climb over the entire house and jump onto the roofs of the next until he found a place to safely jump down from in civilian shoes. These actions barely getting a rise from any of the neighborhood residents he passed by, all of them having gotten used to his parkour antics in the past months to the point they hardly acknowledged him beyond annoyed grumblings.

It was better that way anyway.

Once he reached the city, he restricted himself to using the sidewalks until he was only a couple of blocks away from the labs. At that point he ducked into a snug alleyway, making sure no one was watching first before he began scaling the taller buildings by jumping between them until he reached the rooftops. From there he ran and jumped between buildings until the roof of the main building was in sight. Stopping just for a moment to take out a clasp hook stored in his duffle bag that he looped around a translucent cable connecting the two buildings. Then with a running jump, he zip-lined across the gap before landing onto the roof with a roll the door to the rooftop opening up not long after he made contact.

“Morning, Professor.” A man decked out in the standard lab security attire greeted as he stepped aside to allow him entrance. A bottle of water also being held out for him to take.

“Morning, Niles.” The Professor returned the greeting with a nod as he graciously took the offered water, walking past the guard and making his way down the emergency stairs. “What’s the time?”

“Eight-forty-five,” Niles answered as he followed behind the Professor. “Got here in just a little less than half the stretch of time it used to take you.”

Membrane gave an approving grunt in response, unable to speak while taking gulp after gulp of the bottled water until he downed the entire thing in one go.

“Not nearly as winded afterward, either.” He commented as he crushed the plastic bottle between both hands and tossed it into the nearby recycle bin on the second landing.

Coming to a seemingly normal wall, the Professor thanked Niles again for his support and discretion as part of the wall slid open to reveal a secret passage.

“Anytime, sir.” Niles saluted just before the wall closed back up behind him.

Professor Membrane walked forward the short distance that made up the hidden passage, opening up the door at the opposite end that led into his private quarters.

There he stripped out of his jogging gear, took a quick cold shower to wash off the sweat from the jog, then dressed in his signature lab-coat and goggles.

Looking himself over in the mirror he took in a deep breath and puffed out his chest.

“Time to do some science!” He said with the same inflection and level of pomp he would when speaking in front of an audience. A way to pump himself up for the day of work ahead that he knew he would feel too drained for otherwise.

Grabbing a set of specimen vials from inside the exterior pocket of the duffle bag, he slid them into one of the pockets of his lab coat as he headed out to the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Professor Membrane incognito is the same as Chairman Rose incognito


	2. Chapter 2

By the time noon came around, Professor Membrane was already beginning to feel the effects of fatigue starting to hit. Before that, though, he had managed to oversee, give feedback, and work on several different projects in those three hours.

The reworked Foodio project, previously his main concern for the past several months, was entering its final stages. The main component missing now was just the programming of the artificial intelligence and personality the robot would have. Its predecessor was rather stilted in how it spoke and was moderately terrifying in both voice, appearance, and lacked the capacity to learn. The Professor wanted the new version to be personable and child-friendly. Something children, especially his own, wouldn’t feel intimidated by and could easily approach when hungry.

The new projected completion of a working Foodio prototype was projected to be sometime at the end of the year or sometime next summer. A lot later than the Professor would have preferred, but ever since Cynthia had managed to do where others had failed in teaching him how to make proper meals, the concern of his kids going hungry was now a nonissue.

Cynthia had _also_ berated him the one time he tried experimenting, _literal_ experimenting, with food in the kitchen and blowing up the oven when she was absent. And since he wanted to face her disappointed stare, her lectures, and ear-chewing as little as possible, he restricted himself to just following the recipes he found to a T. The only experimenting he did used standard kitchen ingredients and nothing beyond that.

It was much safer for him to keep potentially hazardous and destructive material away from the food he would feed Dib and Gaz anyway.

The other project he had dedicated most of the time before lunch involved reducing the level of pollution and toxic waste plaguing the city. The basis was the samples he’d gathered of rainwater during his commute, and their attempts thus far seemed promising. The level of harmful pollutants in the water had become reduced by 33.57%! Even _before_ filtration.

Membrane couldn’t believe how he hadn’t once noticed the poor state of things before while in his striving to create a better world. He’d been more absorbed in doing experiments that he found _fun_ over those that would have actually been of help to the environment most of the time. Science, he’d withheld PEG, a clean source of endless energy, from the public after being offended by the crowd’s impatience and refusal to wait for Dib and Gaz to turn up. And no one had even spoken up against that decision!

At least PEG was up and powering the city _now_. But it had only been after the Professor’d received immense pressure from the PR team and the public over Membrane Labs not producing or releasing anything substantial during his time recovering in the past couple months. With him being medically approved to start returning to work, they just kept hounding him until he had eventually snapped at Lucius.

_"If they want something, FINE! They can have PEG!"_

In retrospect, he should have turned PEG over a lot sooner, then perhaps he wouldn’t have had as much work in repairing the ozone, but ah well.

There were more projects he weighed his verdict and judgment on, but he’d gone through the labs to review the reports and data on them in relatively quick succession. Enough time to give them all proper attention while still taking his lunch at twelve o’clock on the hour, just as he did every day he worked at the labs.

And while he normally took his lunch in his private quarters, sometimes with Lucius, today was a day he instead brought his lunch—as well as additional food—over to his head of robotics’ private lab.

He’d barely finished stepping in through the doors before she was on him like a moth to a street corner lamp.

“Ya bring the stuff?!” Entra hung upside down in front of him, still using those mechanical cable arms of hers to move about at will.

The Professor only chuckled, holding up a cup of coffee and bag of donut holes that he'd brought for her. Instantly she squealed with excitement as she snatched the beverage from him before suddenly being pulled upward at a breakneck speed. Then the next moment she appeared halfway across the lab, just past several bots and engineers assisting her in her work, sitting atop a workbench.

“You showed up at the perfect time!” Entra explained as she crossed her legs and began typing one-handed into a keyboard sat next to her. “I _just_ finished up building the canons based on your design specifications into the newest prototypes.”

A holographic screen popped into existence just as the Professor finished making his way over to her. Taking bites out of the deviled egg sandwich he’d put together without once exposing his facial prosthetic.

“I also had a bit of extra time, so I was able to make the additional modifications you requested suddenly last night.” Entra added as the projected screen zoomed in on the model hand segment of the cybernetic arm.

“Just another reason why entrusting this work to you in my stead was the only logical scientific conclusion.” His eyes began to display the same glint they did when he was particularly excited about a scientific achievement as he looked over the projected model.

Membrane had originally wanted to work on this aspect of his prostheses on his own as he had many other projects in the past—the miniature PEGs being one example—but this was just one of those he couldn’t risk bringing home with him. The knife incident from his last experimentation with his prostheses had been more than enough to scare him away from the very idea. And he had a strong suspicion if his children were to find out about his decision of installing weaponry in his arms they would only lecture and question him on that decision.

Entra was at least one of the few members of his team he could wholeheartedly trust.

“And where are the recent prototypes?” His gaze flickered to Entra momentarily as she popped one of the sugar-coated dough balls into her mouth. “I assume they’re ready for testing?”

Entra quickly shoved another donut hole in her mouth before dragging him by the arm to another corner of the room where said prototypes were waiting for him. By now, being manhandled by persons he had a clear height advantage over was something he’d grown used. So he just gave in to the pulls rather than digging in his heels and standing his ground.

“Okay, give me one of your hands!” Entra held out her own expectantly towards him.

So Membrane did just that.

He physically popped off his right arm, where it was designed to disconnect from the shoulder, placing it in Entra’s grasp without hesitation.

Because Entra wanted one of his hands _literally_.

She wasn’t just using the common expression.

“Great!” She immediately set the arm that he’d removed on the table and moved to pick up the newer model. “Oh! Be sure to take off your coat too!” She suddenly added. “You might end up losing the sleeve otherwise in the firing test.”

Membrane lightly chuckled as he shook his head. “Could have made that your first instruction.” He said as he removed his lab coat with his remaining arm. Ignoring the ogling stares he could feel coming from the other persons in the room. He was already more than aware of the more… _inappropriate_ comments and discussions Entra’s team often had about his improved physique.

Once his coat was off, Entra moved to attach the new prosthetic. The process was quick and seamless, just as it had been with detaching the former. And just like he did each morning when his current arms were attached, he tested the new model’s movements.

“How’s it fit?” Entra asked curiosity, her hands under her chin as she watched him test the prosthetic.

“Like a glove.” He responded as he held the hand in front of his face for a closer examination.

With a simple mental command and twitch of the wrist, claws composed of hard-light—each about two inches in length—emerged from the tips of his fingers. Then without warning, he struck out with the clawed metal hand at another nearby workbench piled high with scrap. The hard-light cutting through the metal as easily as a knife through butter.

Entra practically squealed with delight, clapping her hands as they both watched the slashed workbench fall to pieces.

“Marvelous!” The Professor beamed with the same level of glee as he recalled the hard-light constructs back into the tips of his fingers. Continuing to ignore the stares of the other engineers and scientists in the lab, all of whom were now stunned to silence.

He then turned his attention to a different piece of easily replaceable equipment—set up specifically for this test—and then raised the arm to take aim. Keeping it level and using his opposite arm as an additional stabilizer.

“The power dampener should be active to keep you from firing above 10% power capacity.” Entra reminded, lowering her face shield.

“10% is more than enough for testing.” Membrane nodded in approval. “Anything higher than that will blow a hole clean through—”

“Professor,” a member of Entra’s team suddenly called out. “your mom’s here!”

Professor Membrane immediately turned to face where the voice had come from in a flash.

“It was _one_ time!” His usual composure was lost and replaced by the image of a flustered and wrathful man.

To this day, a man was not allowed to forget how he both lost a _delicate_ part of his personhood. Nor how he’d had a slip of the tongue one of the times when Cynthia had come to check in on him in this very lab since he returned to work.

_“Make sure you don’t overexert yourself, alright, Fess? I’ll drop by again later with a mug of your favorite tea.”_

_“Yes, yes, thank you, mother.”_

No matter how much he threatened, or how many people he actually put out of a job, it seemed he wouldn’t be able to live either down.

Not a day went by where one, or the other, wasn’t brought up by someone. And at this point, the Professor just relented to knowing that he wouldn’t hold the same level of respect and 'above human' presence he used to give off.

But science damn him if it still didn’t grind his gears.

“Fess, don’t let yourself get worked up.” Cynthia managed to calm the raging beast threatening to burst forth, both with her words and soothing touch, before it could lay waste to any innocent who dare mock him.

Membrane only let out an indignant huff and noncommittal grunt as he allowed himself to loosen up from his combative stance and hunch forward. His shoulders relaxing as his arms hung heavily and limply at his sides.

He did his best to ignore the snickering he could hear coming from multiple points of the lab.

“Why are you here, Cynthia?” He asked.

“Lucius told me you'd be here, so I came to make sure you don’t land yourself in my medical wing again.” She answered as she withdrew her stroking hand from his face to fold her arms. “Because you’ve become increasingly accident-prone.”

Membrane lightly scoffed at that as he reassumed his position from before.

“Your worry is misplaced.” He assured with his typical Membrane brand confidence as he allowed the miniature PEG in his arm to begin accumulating energy. The buildup physically manifesting itself as electricity danced along the metal's surface as it all began to focus itself within his palm. All a mere 1% worth of the maximum power output it could manifest. “We’ve taken precautions.”

“Actually, it isn’t,” Entra spoke up, though did nothing to stop him. She actually did the opposite, using her extra appendages to help adjust his stance a bit. “Given the number of accidental injuries you’ve received since your encounter with Bruce and Diana, the concern is definitely—”

Membrane fired off the blaster at that moment, both cutting off Entra mid-spiel and sending him flying in the opposite direction. His back slammed into the metal shelving unit behind him and the entire thing, tools and all, fell forward on top of him as he also fell to the ground.

He let out a low groan of pain as he attempted to pick himself up, his ears ringing and his head throbbing with pain. There was a good chance he was concussed, but his concern shifted elsewhere when he realized he only had one arm to work with for pulling himself out from beneath the shelf. His right arm, the one that had fired off the blast, had broken apart from the force and was now loose bits of metal hanging from where the elbow joint was meant to be. The structure was clearly not able to withstand the power of the PEG, just as his body hadn’t been when he was suddenly thrown back.

“... I didn’t expect that...”

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Membrane ended up landing himself in the medical wing after all.

Thankfully, asides from the minor concussion, the only real injuries he’d gotten was straight lines of bruises along his back where he’d painfully impacted with the shelf. Nothing that required him to be admitted, but enough to put a premature end to his day at the lab and have Lucius take over for him as he was driven home. Cynthia, of course, was the one to drive him and berated him the entire way, completely appalled by his claims of how he’d continued working while concussed before. His comments only giving her more ammunition to work with.

“I swear, whatever guardian angel you had up until recently must have been working itself to death before asking God to let it retire.” Cynthia let out an exasperated sigh just as they pulled up to his house at the end of her tirade.

“I haven’t encountered… Any scientific evidence to support such claims...” Membrane rebuked, shifting how he held a pack of ice to the back of his head and hissing lightly. He was speaking a lot slower than normal to keep from slurring his speech. “If there is a God, she clearly has it out for me and all that I’ve accomplished as a modern-day Prometheus...”

The Professor shifted to open the door to get out and had to stop for a moment when he felt suddenly nauseous. But he managed to reign it in before he could start dry heaving or actually vomiting.

“What happened with Bruce and Diana was just a way of trying to nerf me.” He managed to stumble his way out of the car, gripping the roof to regain his balance while he squeezed his eyes shut from the sting of the sunlight. “Along with the… The anxiety.” He squinted through his goggles, trying to make out the shape of his own front door. “Can’t stand the idea of a fair fight. Bastard is probably in alliance with... With…” He blinked in confusion. “What are we talking about?”

“About how you need to lie down and get some rest.” Cynthia shook her head as she took him by the arm to lead him inside.

Her goal was initially to get him to climb up the stairs to remove his prostheses and get him into bed.

But the Professor fought against the pulls this time to instead plop himself down on the living-room couch.

“Alright, there’s fine too.” She sighed as she helped him ease back into a lying position that would be comfortable while the spinal harness was still connected. “I’ll get you a glass of water and some painkillers. Don’t try and get up.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

Mainly because he managed to drift out of consciousness before she had even gotten to the kitchen.

To him, though, it just felt like he had closed his eyes for a second, and then suddenly, several hours had gone by.

He was still on the couch where Cynthia had left him; the glass of water was set on the coffee table alongside two medicine tablets. The room was also dark, though not only due to the curtains being drawn, the digital clock beneath the TV told him that the time was now eleven-thirty PM. From his memory of events, it had only just been a quarter past one when Cynthia had gotten him home, meaning he had been out for more than a good ten hours. Long enough for his children to return home from skool, and long enough for them to have had something to eat before situating themselves on the couch with him.

Dib had made himself at home within the little alcove made from Membrane’s bent legs, turning the space into a nest made up of a blanket and pillow. The boy’s arms were crossed atop the side of his father's knee as he leaned forward slightly, head resting on his arms as he slept with the tv remote loosely dangling from one of his hands.

Gaz, meanwhile, had wormed her way under his arm where she had likely been sitting and playing her Game Slave before she’d gotten too tired to keep at it. The console set aside on the end table as she laid down against his chest, hugging his arm to her like a small child would a stuffed animal they kept around as a comfort item at bedtime.

Any attempt at getting up would wake one or even both of them.

So he shut his eyes in an attempt to return to sleep, accepting his sentence of being captive on the couch by his children for the rest of the night.

On the other hand, his body made its feelings about the whole situation quite obvious the following morning when he awoke alone. His muscles were stiff and sore, both from his injuries and from sleeping with his prostheses on for such a long time. They were practically _screaming_ at him as he struggled to sit up. Hisses and grunts of pain escaping him at even the slightest movement.

“Ah, dad,” Dib’s voice caused him to turn to look to the doorway to the kitchen where the blurred shape of the boy stood with a bowl of cereal in hand. “You’re awake!” He smiled with relief as he turned back towards the kitchen, bare feet lightly slapping against the tile with that boundless energy Membrane couldn't help but envy. “Gaz, he’s awake!”

While pulling on his headset, the Professor slowly stood up to try and follow after the boy, scooping up and downing the medication that had been left for him the day before as he did so. He took his time approaching the kitchen, straining his hearing to figure out what was going on as he made his way over.

Because of how he’d been asleep for so long, both Gaz and Dib had seen fit to call up Cynthia so she could come by and make sure he was alright. Clearly aware of the blow to the head he’d received and how he was once again unwell due to his own actions.

“I’m fine, children, I’m fine.” He attempted to reassure them as he sat at the table with them, choosing to pour himself a bowl of cereal rather than cook breakfast this time around. “I get hit on the head all the time. It’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“It is when you’ve already got enough brain damage to deal with.” Dib commented.

“I don’t have brain damage, son.” The Professor frowned with his eyes. “I’ve already discussed this enough times with you and your sister by now.”

“So, does this mean you’re being forced to stay home again?” Gaz asked, changing the topic.

“For two weeks at most, yes.” Membrane nodded. “Though I shouldn’t need more than one till I’m in the clear.”

Then Gaz asked him something else that caught him by surprise.

“So… Can we actually go on a vacation trip this year?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concussed Membrane was really about to accuse God and Santa of working together against him.
> 
> Also, yes, that test sequence was indeed just a big Iron Man reference:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cCjaIik61dE


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hit my self imposed 4k words per chapter limit with this one sldkfjsldkfj

“Dad, come on, this way!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” The Professor laughed as he trekked through the sand with a multitude of beach gear tucked under his arms.

It hadn’t taken much convincing on Gaz’s part to persuade him taking them on a vacation once she’d brought it up. At the very least, it didn’t take much once his confusion over what she was asking him had been cleared up. Her main argument being her citing how all the other skoolchildren often talked about the trips they took over the summer and even winter breaks.

Children and their families _did_ often go off on holiday when skool was out for the year.

He recalled this fact well from his own childhood. However, as a child he’d never gotten the chance to experience such a summer vacation. After his mother’s death, there was simply no affording it. He’d always vowed to one day take time off and go on a trip to whatever place he fancied in his adulthood, but that had never happened. He’d become too much like his father, insisting that there was just too much work to be done. Too much for him to take any leisure time for himself. And that hadn’t changed even when he became a father himself until recently. Anything remotely fun either had to be beneficial to their core development or education.

And if it didn’t fit into his strict and jampacked schedule that Lucius always managed for him? It was never going to happen.

It shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did when Dib cut him off before he could answer to parrot a response he’d apparently had given them many times before.

_“Sorry honey, much too busy for that. Next year for sure, though! I promise!”_

According to Dib, he’d been saying that every year since Gaz was four.

Membrane wasn’t willing to let that continue.

He also _physically_ couldn’t allow it to. Not without the behavioral correction device he’d installed in his harness delivering a shock to his system.

It was a countermeasure he’d implemented to keep himself from falling back into any of his bad parenting habits. Particularly the very ones that had caused him and his children to become so estranged from one another in the first place.

He’d essentially leashed himself like an ill-trained dog. Bad behavior being reprimanded via horrible electrocution until only the desired responses were conditioned into his psyche. An extra layer of guidance to Cynthia and the parenting books that mentored him into how to act.

Only he was aware of this new feature. And at present, it hardly ever activated due to him being rather successful in conducting himself.

If Cynthia knew, however, she would either remove it or adjust it to include shocking him any time he did something possibly detrimental to his health.

He wouldn’t get anything done if that happened!

But that wasn’t his main point of concern at the moment.

Several weeks had passed now since that breakfast time discussion. And here they were, several states away from home, at one of the US’s cleaner beaches.

It hadn’t been the Professor’s first pick, it hadn’t been _either_ of their first picks, but it was the one option that they were all able to agree was their safest bet in being able to hide in plain sight with the right precautions. A destination where they could actually enjoy their holiday without the worry of being harassed by news crews that had been tipped off about a Professor Membrane sighting.

Even before the accident, the beach was the last place anyone would expect the workaholic Man of Science to turn up.

That and when Dib had commented on how neither he or Gaz knew how to swim… Membrane felt it was his duty as a parent to rectify that fact. Even if getting in the water, ocean water in particular of all things, was one of the last things he wanted to do.

_The ocean was where sharks were, for PEG’s sake!_

He couldn’t even stop himself from freezing up at even just a visual representation of the creatures. His first time in public with his kids to do grocery shopping had ended up with him staring at a corner and not moving when they’d passed a DVD display for Jaws. He’d just continued to stand there, unmoving, trying to brush off the stares he felt on his back and his own son’s comment about how he was acting like the people from the Blair Witch tapes.

Then he eventually snapped, gathering them both into his arms and sprinting back home.

The beach brought about these very same feelings of unease and panic the closer he got to the water’s edge.

But he was doing this for his kids.

_He was doing this for his kids._

Science damn it, if he needed to risk the chance of encountering another shark in his life to ensure they could swim to safety in a likely water-based emergency, that was just a small price to pay.

He wouldn’t allow for his guard to drop for even a moment.

He knew _better_ now.

Talking his kids into the idea, despite how he himself had been completely onboard after that moment, had been another story. But Dib seemed to relent and hype himself up about the prospect of swimming lessons giving him a “tactical advantage” over his little green friend.

A bit... Concerning, to say the least. He was beginning to wonder if his son and the other boy had gotten into some serious argument. But, Membrane couldn’t help but be happy to see his boy child act excited about the trip!

He also would have been lying if he said he hadn’t thought of inviting the other boy to come along. But every time he tried making a pass by the oddly designed house, no one seemed to be home. And any time he made a phone call, all he would get was the answering machine.

He only finally managed to get ahold of who he assumed was the other boy’s father late last night...

_“Ugh, whaaaat?” A rather deep, masculine sounding voice spoke up with easily identifiable annoyance. There was also a sense of tiredness to the voice that Membrane almost immediately empathized with._

_“Hello! This is Professor Membrane of Membrane Labs,” he introduced himself right off the bat and felt entirely out of his element as he spoke._

_Meetings, business calls, speeches, all that he could do easily._

_But setting up a ‘play date’ for his son? That was new territory._

_How did normal parents even manage this?_

_“I believe you may know of my son, Dib? He and yours seem to be good friends. Or at least, I believe they are? It’s hard to tell sometimes.”_

_“Uh...” the other man—or however they chose to identify, Membrane didn’t judge—seemed taken aback and at a loss of what to say. A reaction the Professor was more than familiar with after all his years in the spotlight._

_“First, I’d like to apologize for my son’s behavior with all his horseplay.” He decided to carry the conversation himself; otherwise, he believed the other might hang up if he stayed silent too long. “He can be a bit intense at times, accusing your boy of being an alien and all that. But Dibromide is a sweet and intelligent boy, I assure you. He just happens to act a little insa—“_

_Bzzt._

_“Insatiably curious and adventurous at times to the point it’s more than a bit of a handful...” He shook his head quickly once he realized he was getting too far off track. “Ah, sorry, I’m blabbering on about this, aren’t I? But, that’s how little boys are, aren’t they? I’m sure you understand what I mean?”_

_There was an incredibly heavy silence for what felt like an eternity as Membrane began to feel the prickling sensation of worry rising. He was beginning to fear he had possibly screwed up in trying to connect with the other parent. Or perhaps they were just still too stunned by his social status to speak. It wouldn’t have been the first time._

_“... Actually...” The Professor let out a relieved breath when the other finally spoke. “Yeah. I do.”_

The rest of the conversation went smoothly from that point forward, additional exchanges of pleasantries and conversational topics passing between them until the Professor finally broached the topic of the other’s child joining him and his family to the beach.

Unfortunately, the answer had been an almost immediate “no”, the other than giving what sounded like a rehearsed spiel of their son’s medical conditions, leaving him unwell and unable to leave the house for the foreseeable future. That this situation was incredibly normal and not unusual in the slightest.

Membrane’s attempt at offering aide was denied just as quickly, but he was assured the other boy would be fine without it.

The other was then forced to excuse themselves for some unknown reasons, but made it clear before ending the call that future communication was more than welcome. So, while he’d failed in his initial goal, the Professor could at least take pride in the success he’d had with his secondary ones.

Though now he suddenly remembered that he’d forgotten to ask the other for their name.

Oops.

“Dad! Dad look!” Dib excitedly calling him pulled his attention back to the present where he was setting up a large umbrella in the sand. “I found an intact sand dollar!”

“Give it here, let’s have a look.” Membrane knelt down in the scalding hot sand as his boy approached, holding out a hand in waiting. A hand that looked very much like one of flesh and bone.

He was sporting a new pair of prototypes for this outing. These ones entirely encased by a synthetic layer of skin that made them appear entirely natural while also protecting them from the elements. A feature that also happened to help in aiding them look like any other family on vacation. The facial prosthetic—made of the same imitation skin material—that fit and moved perfectly over his metal jaw also did quite a bit to help them in this endeavor.

The Professor still recalled how amazed his children had been to see him with a complete face. They’d even helped him test the responsiveness of the prosthetic by pulling at it—though it was more aptly described as “playing”—so he was forced into making a multitude of silly faces. Their laughter served as a good indication for just how well it held up.

“Good job, son,” Membrane turned over the sand dollar that was placed in the palm of his hand, beginning to study it. Noting how it was indeed completely intact, despite the creature being dead, with no cracks or broken off pieces at the edges. “You’ve managed to find quite the perfect specimen!”

“I think a mermaid dropped it!” Dib was practically bouncing up and down where he stood, all decked out in swim shorts, water shoes, and arm floaties. “According to some myths and legends, sand dollars were actually used as a currency by merpeople and the people of Atlantis. Or, was it sand dollars looked a lot like the currency they used?” He stopped bouncing as he pursed his lips in thought.

The Professor lightly chuckled as he ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Son, we’re meant to be on _vacation_ here.” He playfully chided. “No chasing after any paranormal creatures allowed. _Especially_ ones of aquatic nature when you’re still learning to swim.”

Dib pouted at that, his face turning pink in embarrassment as he crossed his arms with a huff.

“Now, where’s your sister...? Aha!” Membrane held up a hand to shield his eyes from the sun as he scoured the beach for his daughter, finding her with Cynthia walking over to them from further up the beach.

While Dib and the Professor were more than fine with sporting their beachwear during the drive, Gaz had been adamant on waiting before she changed into her swimsuit. A simple, solid-colored, one-piece that Cynthia had taken her shopping for just a few days prior. Not because the girl had at all felt embarrassed going shopping with her father, but because when it came to girl’s fashion, the Professor knew next to nothing.

And being stared at by the collective of mothers out with their daughters wasn’t something he was willing to deal with.

He was still trying to get over his performance anxiety through live-streaming himself when he worked from home. It was at Gaz’s suggestion, and it was helping, for the most part, even if he was only filming from the shoulders down and using a voice modulator to keep his identity secret for the time being.

“I’m surprised,” Cynthia started with a smile, adjusting the rim of her sun hate while watching the Professor picked himself up and brushed the sand from his knees. “You boys managed to pick out a rather decent spot.”

Membrane just shook his head as he closed the gap between them.

“Thank you again for agreeing to come along, Cynthia.” He said in a low voice, watching as his daughter walked on up to the water’s edge from the corner of his eye. “I really hope this doesn’t end up being too much trouble for you to be working for me like this.”

“It’s really no trouble at all, Fess.” The woman lightly chuckled. “I’ve tagged along on trips like these with my own grandchildren to chaperone many times before. I hardly consider it as working and more as just a part of being a grandmother.”

“I see your point.” Membrane nodded in understanding and was about to say more when Gaz called forth his attention.

“Hey, dad!” Held high above Gaz’s head was a watermelon. “Come over and smash this like in those dumb cartoons you and Dib watch!”

“They’re _not_ ‘dumb cartoons’, Gaz!” Dib stomped his foot, kicking up sand as he did so. “They’re called _anime_! And they’re actually _cool,_ unlike cartoons!”

Gaz only rolled her eyes.

Membrane, meanwhile, just stared at the watermelon his daughter was holding with confusion.

“Gazlene, where did you even get that?”

“Does it matter?” Gaz asked, shrugging her shoulders as she moved to hold the watermelon in front of her chest. “You can still smash it, right?”

Dib suddenly seemed to forget all about the slight his sister had caused as they both looked to him expectantly. And due to not wanting to disappoint, as well as a minor shock of ‘encouragement’ from his spinal harness, he gave in.

He wasn’t given anything to hit the watermelon with, leaving him with just his cybernetic hands to work with, and he ended up using a bit of too much force. Instead of smashing it where it sat on the collapsible table they’d brought, he ended up punching straight through it. Giving himself a watermelon armband and causing both Dib and Gaz to break out into laughter.

Thankfully the watermelon was still edible.

After that minor incident, the rest of their week-long vacation was rather pleasant.

During the day they spent the majority of their time at the beach, the Professor helping both his little scientific marvels earn their fins until they no longer needed water-wings to keep them afloat. And when they weren’t being taught to swim—and the Professor not constantly on edge while up to his waist in ocean water—they took part in other summertime family activities.

Nights were spent in their hotel room at the local resort, watching movies or just winding down after a long day of being active. It was often during this time that the Professor would catch his son looking at the security feeds on the laptop he'd brought along for the trip. And it was these times he would start to consider mentioning what he’d been told about the other boy’s current condition when he’d gotten his parent on the phone.

He ultimately chose not to.

After all, he was uncertain whether or not telling the boy his little friend was sick— _sicker_ even—would worsen his obsessive behavior.

Summer then eventually shifted to Fall, skool starting back up for his children before Membrane even knew it. The standard Parent-Teacher Night came to pass, but as he had in the past he only sent a holoscreen in place of going in person. Venturing in public out of disguise was still something he did sparingly, after all. Though unlike the past Parent-Teacher nights, he was more conversational and present with the other parents and his children’s teachers to a certain extent. He was surprised to see his old public skool teacher, Miss. Bitters—his teacher just for a month or two before being sent to private skool—was now his son’s own fifth-grade teacher. Not only that, but she had also been his teacher the previous year too and would likely continue to be the next year. Budget cuts to the skool system and all that, but it still confused him in terms of how it made logical sense when Dib would then be in the middle skool building, not the elementary.

Though he hardly got the chance to really mull it over after the “pleasure” of meeting Gaz’s teacher—whom he had been introduced to in the prior year as well, but forgot about because of the massive lab explosion that took place the same day—Mr. Elliot. His old, _incredibly aggravating_ , classmate from his brief time in Bitter’s class when he was Dib’s age.

It had taken a bit for it to click, the dots only connecting with flashes of memory after the other man referred to him as “the Professornator”, a nickname he despised that had caused his eye to twitch beneath his goggles.

_“I’d hoped to catch up last year after we got the formal greetings out of the way, but you seemed a bit busy at the time, haha! Anyway—”_

Membrane wanted nothing more than to pull out then and there, but his behavior corrector gave him a shock that kept him locked into the conversation with his daughter’s teacher. Even when the discussion eventually had nothing to do with his daughter and shifted towards Elliot talking about the “good ol’ times” when they were kids. He even changed the topic further to asking if he’d done something with his hair or if he was working on any big projects since Membrane Labs hadn’t exactly released any new commercial products in over a year now.

_“I’ve been busy physically rehabilitating from a shark attack, Elliot.”_

The other man had appeared shocked, as if never having heard about what had happened, but the Professor knew better. Especially when Elliot attempted to try selling him on ideas for products he’d come up with in a way he must’ve thought appeared slick and subtle.

He was thankful when another parent’s child began causing a scene, forcing the man to excuse himself to see what was wrong and giving the Professor the chance to round up Dib and Gaz and take them home early.

A few days later, he ended up receiving a “gift” stuffed shark toy and a “get well” card.

The stuffed toy made for a good target when he next tested his arm canons.

The year went on.

On Halloween, the Professor took his children out trick-or-treating whilst decked out in the most elaborate costumes he could make them. The theme of their costumes, decided on by his daughter, being Bioshock with her dressed as a Little Sister, he the Big Daddy—he built himself a prosthetic drill arm and everything—and Dib a mask-wearing Splicer. The costumes he’d made winning them the grand prize for their neighborhood’s costume party, despite how they hadn’t even entered.

Their night of candy collecting only came to an end when Dib attempted to break into his green friend’s empty house, and Membrane was forced to drag him away.

Only, because of the costume prostheses, he ended up gripping Dib a tad too hard, causing him to yelp in pain and startling the Professor into dropping him.

When they finally got home and the Professor could give the boy a proper examination, he found that he had squeezed his son hard enough to bruise his ribs. Nothing that the accelerated healing chamber wouldn’t quickly fix, of course, but it wouldn’t get rid of the guilt the Professor had from being the cause of the injuries.

Nor did it rid his son of the distrust he once again had of him and his prosthetic arms. Dib’s avoidance of getting too close to his father or his arms being obvious.

He wouldn’t even sit in his lap where he could hold him anymore whenever they’d have one of their anime binge sessions…

Thanksgiving passed by, and around the same time the Professor finally began reintroducing himself to the public via filming new company commercials. There was pressure put on him by the PR team to make a few where his arm protheses were completely exposed and the main focal point, but he turned down and flat out refused the suggestions.

He wasn’t going to allow himself to become part of the problem many amputees and other disabled individuals faced. Their pictures and existence being converted into “inspiration” for completely able-bodied persons was enough of a problem as is.

Besides, the less focus on his amputee status, the better.

Christmas and the Professor’s thirty-fourth birthday came creeping up around the corner too eventually. Santa Claus once again not making an appearance since the disaster of two years ago.

And then it was spring.

Membrane stood in the middle of one of the bustling labs with his mug—the character mug Dib had given him—as he contemplated how quickly the year had flown by.

His children’s birthdays were fast approaching in a couple of months and he wasn’t sure what to give his son as a gift this year.

Nothing would top the room renovations and the new home computer he’d gifted Dib last time, that was more than certain. But he still wanted to put some time and effort into what he got the boy. Even putting on hold for the moment his recent project on figuring out how to harness that boundless energy kids like his own happened to produce.

He had plans of converting it into a power source for the commercial/public use model of the Membraclet he’d released during December. But the new version he had in mind would be designed for the use of children specifically.

But his own children came first.

His thoughts were then interrupted by a sudden explosion happening not too far from where he stood, his attention diverted to helping everyone get out unharmed as the safety protocols kicked in to contain the resulting post-explosion fire and other damages.

No one was hurt, but there was _one_ casualty.

The mug Dib had given him was on the floor in pieces, shattered after getting knocked off the table he had set it down on when assisting in evacuations.

Membrane just stared down at the pieces of broken porcelain in silence before bending down to gather up the pieces one by one. However, he was unable to locate some particularly small bits that had gotten lost amongst the rubble.

He couldn’t help but feel a little saddened.

The mug had been a humorous gift from his son, yes, but it had still been a gift. The first the boy had ever given him that he had come to use religiously for his daily tea.

The Professor could only hope it getting broken wasn’t a bad omen of things to come.

He didn’t believe in omens, of course, but he couldn’t deny the laws of cause and effect that followed after certain happenstances. 

He hoped nonetheless...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the Chairening approaches


	4. Chapter 4

The Professor stood amidst the smoldering remains of the robotic machinery he’d recently just fell. The cybernetics of his prosthetic arms were close to overheating, the exhaust valves that kept the mechanisms cool, releasing steam every other passing beat. He could physically feel the rising temperature where the metal attached to him, even through the protective clothing.

His arms also weren’t the only parts of him suffering from overexertion.

His legs felt like jelly and made him feel like he might collapse at any moment. But the lightly armored metal supports encasing them—just beneath his body suit, connecting his spinal harness to his removable rocket boots—kept him upright and stable. The supports working just as intended in keeping him firmly grounded and from being blasted backward from his own hand canons.

But the tests weren’t finished yet.

“Raising the maximum power threshold to 50% output.” Membrane said aloud, seemingly to no one, as a new much larger target appeared to materialize from nowhere before him.

He took aim, allowing the energy to quickly build up between both hands, the energy crackling and dancing along the metal casing. The arms began to glow orange, then white, with heat as the HUD of his headset displayed warning after warning. The focused energy then fired, disintegrating a hole through the enemy target, effectively neutralizing it.

Though not without most of the metal casing of his arms warping and breaking off in some places.

48.5% seemed to be the current hard stop limit these arms could handle of the Miniature PEG’s total energy production.

“End simulation.”

At the command, the space and collection of rubble around him flickered and stuttered until they were no more, revealing him to be standing in a small enclosed space with walls lined with curved glowing portals. A means to absorb the energy fired off by the Professor and transferring it into the larger, full-sized, PEG that was located beneath the labs. All to ensure he could safely test the power threshold of each new arm prototype as they were built.

These current models were only Mark IX.

“Whew, I knew the temperature readings were high but, _wow_...!“

Entra’s voice, rather than the sound of the holochamber door opening, caused for his head to turn. His eyes locking onto the form of the head of his robotics department as she leaned back, propping herself up reclined with her alternate limbs, and fanned herself.

“It’s practically a sauna in here!”

“Perhaps then you should invite over some of your team to sweat out the tension stored in their muscles before it drops.” Membrane gave a tired chuckle as he gently pushed past her and stepped out of the spherical chamber. The cooler air against his heated skin feeling just divine and also causing him to shiver.

“Are you serious or joking?” Entra asked as she straightened her posture before quickly appearing in front of him. “Joking?”

“Joking.” He repeated with a light nod as he moved over to the Automatic Reattachment Mechanism Station for removing and reattaching his prostheses—which he had dubbed ARMS—where a somewhat flustered robotics intern also stood.

The Professor did his best to ignore their ogling as the machinery stripped him of everything but his underwear, leaving him almost entirely exposed to both. Though when it came to Entra, he hardly had to really worry about modesty. She’d already seen him fully nude on more than one occasion, both on and off operating tables, and she had never once behaved untowardly.

The intern on the other hand...

Well...

They were currently hiding their face in the towel used for wiping off the sweat from his back so his usual prostheses could be put on.

He really had to get around to upgrading the ARMS to perform the task itself...

“Well, you’ll be happy to know the data we collected this time is likely the last bit we needed for the next set of prototypes.” Entra began while pulling herself up to the computers and accessing the recordings.

Of course, Membrane _couldn’t see_ said data from the lower level, but he could always look them over later. Moreover, he was more preoccupied in keeping close tabs on the intern tending to him, just to make sure they didn’t get handsy, to really pay attention.

That had already happened on more than one occasion when someone other than Cynthia recorded his vitals. It was all routine and done daily to ensure he didn’t suffer any decline in his health due to unforeseen complications with the cybernetics attached to and housed within his body. But the Professor could already count on both of his prosthetic hands the number of times an aid let their hands wander or linger somewhere just a bit too long.

Thankfully none who assisted him were repeat offenders. One write up for sexual harassment, a threat towards losing their position, and a few hours of painful re-education on workplace etiquette in the box seemed more than enough to make even the bravest of them cease and desist. Of course, Membrane usually would have just fired them _immediately_...

But he had promised Cynthia he wouldn’t be so quick in dealing out pink slips going forward. Especially since just last month, he’d dismissed almost the entirety of his prosthetic development team after they’d called him in to review the new different attachments for his _other_ missing attributes they’d developed using the advanced sensory technology he now had in his arms. Almost every one of them had managed to _completely miss the point_ for what classified as a _functional prosthetic_.

He may have given them plenty of leeways and what was virtually _complete_ control over the design process, but there was only _so much_ he was willing to put up with.

Thankfully, the intern remained on their best behavior. So he rewarded them with a pat on the head, an action he had grown accustomed to doing with his children lately, once he had his arms back before dismissing them. However, the head pat seemed to only further agitate their already nerve-wracked state and caused them to go entirely red in the face before bolting out of the lab.

Ah, well, wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d instilled this response in someone.

“Wait,” Entra swung herself over the railing of the platform above until she was hanging by her arm cables just a few feet above him. “are you already leaving?!” her gaze flickered down to his hands as they finished doing up the last of the buttons on his lab coat. “But, it’s not even three o’clock yet!”

“True, but I have a prior engagement to get to before my kids are home from skool.” Membrane said while adjusting his coat’s collar.

“… Oh!” Entra’s face lit up in recollection as she pieced things together. “Today’s the release date for that book!”

“Mhm.” He nodded his head. “And I fully intend on picking up my preordered copy before there are any further delays. I’ve only a few days left to do so before the deadline.”

“Well, good luck!” Entra waved the Professor off as he began taking his leave. “Don’t let any rabid fangirls rip off any of your arm components!”

He took off almost immediately, opening up and leaping out the nearest window with the ease and calm of a seasoned flying trapeze performer. His rocket boots and the stabilizers built into his arms, activating and granting him flight before he got too close to the ground. And all without even first going to his office to retrieve his things before leaving.

He could always come back for them later or have Lucius drop them off, anyway.

It didn’t take long for him to arrive at his destination, the city mall, where he landed with seemingly little effort,

His appearance drew the attention of mall-goers entering and exiting the establishment, some staring in awe and others exchanging conspiratorial whispers as he strode on by. A common occurrence that came with his public presence that he’d only recently refamiliarized himself with after nearly two years. The lingering trauma related to his being observed or in front of a crowd would never fully go away, but it was manageable now. Unlike before, where even just his children watching him cook dinner would cause his entire body to freeze and lock up.

He had even started live-streaming with the camera capturing his full profile and unmodulated voice. His previously anonymous channel had skyrocketed in subs and views after his “face reveal”—as the kids called it—and increased the interactions/comments he received from the audience.

The Professor was getting his groove back, slowly but surely.

Maybe he’d even be able to host a keynote sometime in the future like he once regularly did. Though if he did, he’d want it to be for something spectacular that would make his incident a thing of the past. Something that would render talk of it nonexistent and put his accomplishments and advancements in science back in the forefront.

He already had more than a few ideas brewing.

But first, the situation at hand.

Professor Membrane made his way to one of the mall’s many bookstores after stopping a few times to consult one of the standard “you are here” maps that were practically everywhere. He’d never actually _been_ to a mall to do any shopping since he was seven, and mainly because he had gotten himself banned from entering the premises. Mall Security had a “no tolerance” policy towards children attempting to disintegrate the city assigned mall Santa.

The bookstore he was looking for was positioned between a boarded-up storefront and a clothing store for... _Mature_ individuals. But thankfully, the Professor wasn’t a man who would be so easily distracted by the window displays. His only thoughts in regard to the shop restricted to how they _had_ to be breaking regulations just based on what he saw at a glance.

Membrane willed himself to ignore it as he got into the line of individuals standing outside of the bookshop. The queue was still a reasonable length, spilling out of the shop by a humble body count of four. Though a part of him internally grimaced when he recalled the time his children had waited _hours_ —without him even _noticing they_ were gone that long—when Gaz had wanted to get the midnight release of the now out of date Game Slave 2. And not only that, Dib had somehow contracted an odd physical ailment that mutated his DNA to contain traces of rat amongst the human.

Nothing he couldn’t fix, of course.

The boy was entirely back to normal a few days later. One of the benefits of them being clones: he still had the original genomes they’d grown from stored on file. As long as he had those, gene repair of any kind was easy for the most part. He’d taken all the precautions he could think of after an incredibly _vivid_ and _horrible_ dream he’d had where Dib kept getting increasingly injured and became physically disabled to the point of near-death.

And it had come quite in handy.

Not just for the rat incident, but another unrelated event that led him to finding Dib and his little friend after they had somehow mutated into sentient baloney sausages. The result of them playing with all the various chemicals and gene samples stored in his lab, he concluded. The Professor had restored Dib as top priority, of course. Though before he could get to work on the other boy, a funny little green dog had flown into the room with a filled syringe in its mouth. The contents stabbed and injected into a random location of the boy-turned-baloney’s body and resulting in a near-instant and _painful_ reversion to his former self.

Thinking of his son’s friend made him wonder if he should try calling the other’s parent again soon. Just to see how both child and caretaker were fairing and make some small talk.

“... What’s Professor Membrane doing here?”

The whispering from behind him snapped the Professor to the present. A sigh escaped him and his hands clenched and unclenched as he tried not to eavesdrop on what was being said _literally_ just behind his back. He could already feel the small pangs of anxiety starting to pile up into a mountain the longer he dwelled on the thought of how he was being observed. The collective glances from multiple people in and out of line cast his way as murmurs of conversation continued to cascade down and around him. Snippets inevitably reaching his ears despite his best efforts to block them out.

“... Different.”

“... Thought he retired?”

“...Lost his arms.”

“... Nearly died.”

“...Didn’t you hear?”

“... Something with sharks.”

“...Niece was in the audience...”

“... Nearly died.”

“... Saw the whole thing!”

“Nearly died.”

_“Nearly died.”_

**_“Nearly—“_ **

“Sir?”

He hadn’t realized he’d reached the front if the line until he was spoken to. Thankful for the distraction happening when it did as he stepped forward with an apology falling from his tongue for his spacing out.

Comfortable with having lost limbs he may be, but the actual near-death event he’d endured he was not.

After a few grueling minutes of making small talk with the author, he was out of there faster than a slab of meat being hurled towards someone’s skool-age valentine. Then he was home, delicately wrapping up and hiding away the book where it wasn’t likely to be found before the day it was needed.

And not a moment too soon either.

He’d only just stepped out of his room when the sound of the front door bursting open, a clear sign that Dib and Gaz both gotten home from skool. _Both_ being a certainty in this instance with the unmistakable voice of his son calling out to him.

“Dad...?! Dad!?”

The Professor made his way down the stairs relatively quickly to see what was the matter. The tone in which his son was calling out to him a definite cause for concern.

“What is it, son?!”

When he reached the living room, Dib was sitting huddled behind the couch with a hand tightly pressed to his neck. Gaz, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen and suggesting that the boy had rushed home and had gotten home before his sister. The reverse of what usually happened.

“Son, what’s the matter?” Membrane got down on his knees, grabbing the edge of the couch for leverage as he scanned Dib for any sign of injury. Though the hand being held to his neck already told him where, if there were any, were located.

“I’ve been stung!” Dib exclaimed, his voice high and shrill with panic. “They got me!”

“What?” Membrane’s brows arched in confusion and worry. “Who got you, son?” He reached forward to try and pull away the hand Dib was holding to his neck only to have his own lightly batted away.

“The Vampire Bees!”

The Professor just silently blinked at that for a moment.

“Vampire... _Bees_...?” Had his son been stung by a bee and with his head so full of paranormal nonsense begun overreacting to it? Is that what was happening?

“They built a hive in the skool’s outside sport's shed...” Dib began to explain what happened, giving his father the rundown with one-handed animated gestures. Though most of what was said hardly registered to the Professor. The man refraining from shaking his head and holding his tongue until his son was finished.

He reached forward again, this time more slowly and Dib visibly flinched when he gently placed his gloved metal fingers over his small hand.

“Let me have a look, son.” He urged. “I can’t see how bad the damage is if you’re covering it up.”

Dib pursed his lips as he regarded Membrane and his intentions. Inevitably lowering his hand from his neck while clenching his jaw, allowing Membrane to see the sting marks he had been concealing.

Not _a_ mark.

Marks.

Plural.

On his son’s neck were two swollen mounds with a bee’s stinger at the center of each. This explained his son’s belief about them being “vampire bees”, the dual stingers was likely a mutation caused by all the toxic waste that had been in the city cesspool up until now. That’s all this was. Membrane really couldn’t fault his son for his reaction with this additional information now.

Besides, a singular bee sting hurt quite a lot. Two _at the same time_ on the other hand...

Now that _had_ to hurt. Especially for a child.

But if what was written in the parenting books he’d been memorizing was to be believed... Insisting the injury wasn’t _that_ bad or kissing it better would usually calm a child. And since Dib was too old for the latter solution...

“My boy, this is nothing!” The Professor gave one of his usual hearty laughs.

“Nothing?!” Dib suddenly pulled back, looking aghast and appalled all at once.

“Of course!” Membrane attempted to assure as he quickly took Dib by the shoulder, taking the boy by surprise.

He internally grimaced at the flash of fear in his son’s eyes as he suddenly went completely rigid.

“The stingers aren’t even burrowed that deep!” He continued to feign self-assurance in what he was saying while keeping his grip more than loose enough for Dib to pull away at any time. “Why, any venom they may have contained was likely absorbed by the fat of the subcutaneous tissue before it could enter your bloodstream! So if this _was_ indeed a ' _vampire bee_ ',"—He used his free hand to make finger quotes—"as you claim, you should be more than perfectly fine!" He reached into one of his lab coat's pockets and pulled out a handkerchief that he started to gently rub against his son's neck until the dual stingers fell loose. Careful not to apply too much pressure both for his son’s comfort and so as to not accidentally drive them in deeper.

"You..." Dib was looking at him with large, hopeful eyes as he continued to sit stock still. "Are you sure, dad?"

"Of course, son." Membrane lightly chuckled as he tied up the corners of the handkerchief with the stingers and putting it back away in his pocket to throw out later. “I may not be an expert in these things like you are,”—Dib visibly perked up at that—“but I _do_ recall all the details of vampirism as you explained it back when I was still bedridden.”

“You actually _remember_ all that?” His son gawked at him in disbelief.

“Everything I was fully conscious to comprehend, yes.” The Professor smiled softly with his eyes as he gave a nod. “You and your sister’s visits were all that kept me sane during that time. I looked forward to them as well as the little lessons you had for me every day.”

The doubt faded from Dib‘s gaze as he once again looked up at him with wide innocent eyes. 

Membrane couldn’t help but mentally sigh in relief. It seemed he had indeed made the right judgment call in this scenario with playing off the severity of the stings. And the long game of patience and humoring his son’s interests, rather than flat out expressing his dislike of it, also appeared to be going well. Had this been any other time before the Professor had had the time to reflect on his parenting methods, Dib would be screaming and shouting at him by this point.

“... What did I tell you about vampirism that makes you so sure I’m fine then?” Dib was now squinting at him in suspicion again. The question meant as a way of testing him.

“Which _form_ of vampirism?” Membrane countered with a question of his own. “Classic European mythology? Jiangshi? Shtriga? Estries?” Each variation he listed caused Dib’s eyes to slowly grow to the size of saucers. “Or as you asking if I remember the main overarching creation methods in most vampire folklore?” he began counting off with his fingers. “How they're considered revenants of evil beings, suicide victims, witches, corpses possessed by malevolent spirits—“

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Dib snapped, grabbing one of his hands with both of his smaller ones. “You were _listening_...” He grumbled as though upset he’d been proven wrong, his pouting only causing Membrane to give an amused chuckle.

“Come on,” He started ruffling the boy’s hair. “Let’s go to the kitchen and put some ice on that neck of yours before the swelling gets worse.“ He lightly lifted his son up by under his arms to stand him up on his feet before moving to get up himself. “I’ll even fix you up a cup of your favorite tea, how does that sound?”

At that, Dib happily followed him into the kitchen. And sometime between setting the kettle to boil and procuring a bag of ice, Gaz had turned up. Though rather than join them, she simply laid her claim on the TV and couch in the time remaining before dinner.

“Hey, dad…” Dib started just as tea was poured into the cup sat in front of him. “Do you _actually_ believe me about the bees?”

“Well…” How did he go about this…? “There’s certainly no point in denying the evidence that you were stung by some subspecies of Anthophila.”

“But…?” Dib looked up at him expectantly.

“But as a man of science…” He tried to choose his next words carefully. “Remaining skeptical until all the necessary amount of evidence is collected is only in my nature.”

“So…” Dib’s stare suddenly became empty and hollow. Things were quickly taking a negative turn after looking like it would be smooth sailing from here on out. “You _don’t_ believe me then…”

“Son,” Membrane quickly attempted to amend the situation. “that isn’t what I said.”

“But, it’s what you _meant_.”

Without another word, Dib hopped down from his seat at the table, cup of tea in hand, as he left the kitchen in a huff. Stopping to grab a jar of honey from the fridge as he retreated to the living-room.

The Professor let out a sigh.

Everything had been going _just fine_ until a moment ago. What had he said wrong?!

Well…

Whatever it was…

Hopefully, he could smooth things over during dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bee Boi Origins


	5. Chapter 5

Membrane did _not_ smooth things over during dinner.

Mostly because Dib had claimed he wasn’t feeling well and had instead gone up to his room without eating. A concerning sudden turn, to say the least, but not one the Professor wasn’t able to handle. And from what he could glean from a simple look at the boy, paled complexion with skin glistening from a thin layer of sweat, it was likely just a fever and nausea. The simple result of excessively worrying and fearing he’d start succumbing to vampirism with all that bee nonsense that had happened. Membrane himself knew more than well enough the effect one’s mental state could have on their physical health. He had worked himself up into a similar position before not that long ago.

The BRAT diet—bananas, rice, apples, and toast—and some bed rest would be more than sufficient as a cure. Though when he brought the tray of food up to Dib’s room, the boy seemed steadfast in not coming out from under the covers where he had hidden himself. Refusing to speak to his father at all until he had offered to make him another cup of tea.

_“... Can you put some honey in it this time?”  
_

_“Of course, son, as much as you want. Though I’ll have to make a quick trip to the store to buy some since you finished off the last of it earlier.”_

Dib appeared to do better after that. And his condition further improved as the days passed!

The amount of honey the boy consumed was more than a bit concerning, but odd food cravings when ill wasn’t something entirely unusual. And honey was also a considerably healthy alternative sweetener to sugar, so he didn’t deem it worthy of investigating further. If anything, his son’s sudden obsession with eating honey was just another side effect of an overactive imagination. Worrisome, yes, but something that would eventually pass given time. Dedicating time and energy to trying to dissuade and convince Dib he was fine through rationalizing with and performing DNA tests on him would just end up being a waste. And it would likely only further undo any progress the Professor had made in rectifying their relationship.

A bit more patience on his end wouldn’t hurt him.

 _Impatience_ and the resulting electric shocks from his harness on the other hand _would_.

By day five, Dib appeared to be entirely back to normal sans his new honey cravings. The picture-perfect image of a healthy twelve-year-old boy. Even if he _wasn’t_ twelve just yet on a technicality. There were still a handful of days till his birthday came to pass. And Membrane’s main concern now fell to whether or not the gift he’d gone out of his way, enduring public scrutiny, to obtain would receive a positive reception.

_“Fess, you’re getting yourself needlessly worked up.”_

Cynthia had said when he brought up his concerns with her and Lucius.

_“Dib is sure to love it.”_

While her words had calmed his nerves for the most part, lingering doubt still plagued him. So it wasn’t all that surprising when he broached the topic during a call with his new friend and colleague in single-parenthood, the legal guardian of Dib’s own little friend.

“Yeah, I can see why you would be nervous.” The other said after having listened to the Professor express his concerns. “Both from what you’ve told me and my own experiences in dealing with him. He can be just as violent as my ma—my _ZiM_ , depending on the circumstance.” They seemed to sigh in exasperation. “I can’t even begin to tell you the number of times I’ve had to shoo him off my property or kick him out for one reason or another.”

“Again, I feel I should apologize for all the trouble he’s caused you and your son.” Membrane said, feeling a heaping of secondhand guilt. The fingers of his hand _not_ keeping his head propped up drumming against the surface of the desk in his private office. For the first time in a while, he had opted to take his lunch alone rather than joining Entra or Lucius and Cynthia for the express purpose of making this call.

“You’re _fine_. Really.” The Professor’s headset flashed in time with the other’s words as they spoke. “ _Believe me_ when I say ZiM and GIR have done _far worse_ than anything your boy has that I’ve had to put up with since we... Uh... _Moved_ here.”

“‘GIR’?” Membrane cocked a brow at that as he straightened his posture. “I wasn’t aware you had a second child.”

“Uh... Yeeeaah...” They started sounding twice as exhausted than previously at that. “I do, don’t I?”

“Do they share the same illness?”

“What? GIR? No! GIR’s not...” The other suddenly paused as if uncertain about what they were to say next. “… GIR’s a robot, not a human child.”

“Is that so?” The Professor forgot about his own worries suddenly as his interest became piqued. “Were they made to be a sort of sibling or companion to your boy so he wouldn’t be lonely when his multiple conditions acted up?”

“... Yeah, I guess you could say that.” The other didn’t seem willing to dispute his conclusion. “He behaves a lot like a toddler does for the most part. Likes to dress up as a dog usually.”

“Aha!” Membrane triumphantly snapped his fingers as he instantly connected dots that had been just floating in space unexplained for the last two years. “So _that’s_ why that little green dog had the cure and could talk! It was your other child, not a stress-induced hallucination!”

“Oh,” the other seemed a bit surprised by this. “so you _have_ met GIR then?”

“Not long enough for introductions, but yes.” Membrane nodded his head as he leaned back in his chair. Another thought crossing his mind then that he came to the decision of bringing up. “Speaking of meeting...” he steepled his fingers together. “Perhaps one of these days we could meet up for lunch rather than exclusively communicating over the phone? I’d very much like the opportunity to—“

“No.” The response was immediate and cut off whatever else he had been planning to say. “I mean—I’d _love_ to, Professor, I really would...” They seemed both panicked and anxious as they gave their vague explanation for their refusal. “But I _physically_ can’t.”

Well, he would be lying if he said being turned down like that didn’t upset him. Especially due to previously never having been refused whenever he made such invitations to coworkers and the like for one reason or another. But he knew better than to take his proposal’s rejection personally.

The Professor vaguely wondered if this was how it felt like to be a teenager after their attempt at asking out a crush went south.

It got him thinking about how soon it would be before he had to prepare for Dib experiencing these feelings. He _was_ getting to that age, after all...

“Is it because of your son’s condition?” Membrane asked curiously as he pushed back those thoughts _and_ his bruised ego to the back of his mind. “Or is it work-related?”

“... Bit of both.” The other said. “Also we’ve… Not been home the last few months... At _all_.”

“But... Aren’t I calling you on your home phone?”

“Automatic redirect calling.” The explanation came quick, as though rehearsed many times. “This is my cell.”

“Ah.” The Professor only nodded since that made complete and total sense. He had once done the same with his landline phone before he was able to start leaving Dib and Gaz at home.

Which... He really _shouldn’t_ have been doing.

“I have to go now.”

“Oh,” Membrane tried not to let his disappointment appear obvious. “So soon?”

“Yeah.” The other seemed regretful and hesitant. “I need to get back to work and... Check on the _kids’_.”

“In that case, my friend, I really shouldn’t keep you.”

The Professor let them go after they said their goodbyes, and a solid minute passed before he suddenly collapsed atop his desk.

PEG damn him...

He’d forgotten to ask for their name.

_AGAIN._

“Why am I so socially inept?!” He found himself shouting towards the ceiling of his office as he sat upright and threw his up in a melodramatic fashion. “Why?!”

Part of the Professor felt a vague sense of deja vu; that he’d reacted this way about his parenting ability a few years prior. A memory from before he’d lost his arms and before he’d actually been forced to face the consequences of his parental neglect. His reaction from then feeling more like simple self-pity over his son not enjoying the same things he did after all he had endured and done to improve as a father.

Membrane suddenly slammed his head back onto his desk. The pain snapping him out of his current mindset before he could spiral and allowing him to focus his attention elsewhere.

The Peace Day edition of the consumer model Membraclet. He still had a lot of work left to do in regards to its special functions and power source. And it was only just recently, after seeing his son jump back into being as active and energetic as always, that he had decided what that power source would be. As well as just what it was he’d call it.

Childergy.

An admittedly ridiculous name. But one sure to stick in the minds of all who heard it.

* * *

There was only one day left until Dib’s twelfth birthday now. The Professor’s schedule was already cleared for the whole day—as well as for Gaz’s own upcoming birthday—so that he would have the whole day to spend with his kids.

No lab work, no meetings, nothing.

Anyone who attempted to contact him for work-related business would be forwarded to Lucius to deal with. He had missed far too many of his children’s birthdays already, he wasn’t about to permit himself to miss any more over something that he could easily take care of at a later date.

Membrane had thought himself well prepared for anything that could happen to ruin the upcoming celebration for his son.

He had failed to take into consideration he himself was still very much a factor.

And he realized this fact much too late.

Dinner for that evening proceeded as usual for the most part. Standard small talk as they each ate at their own pace. The standard, at least until Professor Membrane took notice of his son’s posture and how he was pushing his food around on his plate as opposed to actually eating. A clear sign that he was upset about something again like he had been a few times during dinner the past week. His mind elsewhere.

“Something the matter son?” Membrane ended up asking, garnering his son’s attention. “You’ve hardly touched your food.”

“He’s just being mopey about ZiM again,” Gaz said dryly and with clear agitation towards the fact before her brother could even begin to speak for himself. “like _always_.”

“I’m not being mopey!” Dib snapped, slamming a hand on the table and going into a tirade. “ZiM’s been missing for over a _year_ now and no one seems to even care or think anything of it!”

Science, not _this_ again…

“He’s up to something! He has to be!” DIb continued. “There’s no way he isn’t!”

Membrane resisted the urge to drag a hand down the front of his face as his son went on and on about what he theorized the boy was _really_ doing. That him suddenly dropping out of the public eye for so long that no one had seen heads or tail of him should have been more than suspicious enough. Especially after he had originally seemed to drop out of the sky out of nowhere.

Eventually, the Professor couldn’t keep silent any longer and finally interrupted him before he had even finished choosing his words.

“Like how I did?” His question seemed to catch the boy off guard. “I 'disappeared' just as suddenly as your little green friend.” He cocked a brow at his son as he wagged a finger almost disapprovingly at him. “His absence is likely related to his medical conditions. I’ve actually been in regular contact with his legal guardian and that seems to actually…”

The Professor didn’t finish his sentence, slowly trailing off as he noticed the tears that had begun to stain his son’s cheeks.

“… Son?” Membrane spoke more softly as his gaze shifted to one of concern. A look Gaz mirrored as she eyed her brother curiously.

Dib just stared down at the table, teeth tightly clenched and shoulders tense to the point his entire body began to shake from the pure intensity of emotions coursing through him.

This… Wasn’t good…

What had he said wrong?

_What had he said?_

_**BZZT.** _

“Dib...” The Professor carefully reached out to take the boy by the shoulder in an attempt to snap him out of whatever stooper he had fallen into. But he found himself instead having to quickly draw his hand back when Dib suddenly swung a tiny fist at him and started screaming.

“DON’T TOUCH ME WITH THOSE STUPID THINGS!”

Membrane winced at those words. More than he had from the shock he’d gotten mere moments ago.

“DIB,” Gaz raised her voice back at her brother when she noticed her father was much too stunned to do so himself. Not that he would have ever raised his voice anyway. “CHILL!”

“Of course you’d take dad’s side,” Dib gave a fake laugh as he scoffed. “You take his side in everything!”

“There isn’t even a side to take this time!” Gaz argued. “You’re flipping out on dad for no reason!”

“Children—“

“ _No reason?!_ ” Dib’s eye twitched. “NO REASON?!” He jumped onto the table then in front of where Gaz sat, pointing a finger aggressively at their father who had yet to move since withdrawing his hand. “Did you hear _anything_ of what he said about ZiM just now?! He wasn’t even listening to a _single_ thing I was saying again!”

“But I _was_ listening, son!” Membrane finally found his voice to defend himself, but still refused to move beyond lowering his arms and positioning his hands out of sight. “All I was trying to do was offer you a logical explanation as to what happened to your little friend based on the evidence and proof _I’d_ gathered!”

“And what _evidence_ is that, dad?” Dib challenged, glowering from where he stood atop the table. “What makes you think you know more about what’s happening with ZiM than _I_ do?!”

“Because I’ve been in regular contact with his parent!”

Dib looked thoroughly taken aback, his mouth slightly agape.

“... When?” His voice came out quietly at first. “Since _when_ have you had contact with his ‘ _parents_ ’?!”

“Since last summer.” The Professor said plainly. “Before we went on vacation.” Dib continued to just stare at him in silence. “I had tried to invite for him to come along in hopes of you both making up and putting aside whatever differences—”

“There’s _nothing_ to make up!” Dib stomped his foot angrily. “He’s an _alien invader,_ dad! You’re supposed to be the _smartest man in the world,_ how are you so easily fooled by all his tricks?!”

“I am _not_ a _fool_ , son.” Membrane furrowed his brow. “ _Ignorant_ about some things, yes, but _not_ a _fool_.”

“Then _why_ won’t don't you ever just _believe_ me?!” Dib jabbed a finger in the Professor’s face, forcing him to lean back again.

Had this been any other time, he would have gently pushed the boy’s hand away. He would have gotten up and lifted him off the table. But he did neither of those things, only sat there with his hands tightly clenched in his lap. Fighting every urge to raise his hands to try and usher his son into calming down if only to avoid eliciting another violent response. And if that happened, the boy was more than likely to hurt himself whilst physically lashing out at his prostheses.

There wasn’t much else he could do but sit there.

“You wouldn’t believe me last week about the _bees_ , you’ve _never_ believed me about the aliens—“

“Son, there are _no_ aliens!” He flinched at the shock he got for uttering those words. The grunt of pain he let out making it seem like he was aggressively growling his next sentence. “None that have managed to find their way to our solar system! I have _tried_ to explain to you _many times_ about the _science_ behind these things! But you simply _refused_ to listen!”

“If your _‘real’ science_ is able to explain everything _so easily_ —” Dib was red in the face at this point.

“Son, _stop_ putting words in my mouth—”

“Explain why I have memories of being abducted by these aliens you claim _don’t exist!_ ”

“... Wat?” Membrane blinked, wondering where this was coming from now. His son had never once before mentioned—

“I _clearly_ remember being taken when I was a baby!” Dib began, not letting his father get the chance to ask him for clarification before delving into his recollection. “They—they were really _tall_ and _pale_ and—and they had me in this weird liquid-filled tube thing...!”

The boy continued on with explaining the fragments of what he remembered, the Professor still confused and unsure of how he was meant to respond.

“They had weird shiny eyes, like glass, and kept running all these weird tests—”

As Dib continued to speak, realization dawned and Membrane felt himself become consumed by dread and horror.

This shouldn’t have been possible.

Dib _shouldn’t_ be _remembering_ this!

“One of them had this weird mass of blue tentacles on their head and—“

He even could recall, even if incorrectly, the dyed curly hair of one of his lab assistants.

“And the tallest one out of them was super loud and—”

“Was me.”

“... What...?” Dib’s face and arms fell as he silently turned his gaze to his dad. He now being the one lost and confused over what was being said.

“That ‘alien’ was _me_ , son.” Membrane clarified unable to keep his hands in his lap any longer and covering his face with them. The movement causing the boy to startle and take a step back. “Everything you’ve just described... That was the day my team and I had finally taken you out from the gestation tube.” He ran a hand over his prehensile hair-limb, smoothing out the strands that had begun standing on end as he got worked up. “The day you were officially _born_.”

“The day... The day I was born...?” The previous color in Dib’s face had drained away completely, leaving behind a complexion nearly as white as the ghost imagery on his shirt.

“None of my calculations even once projected you would be able to remember your own birth... Even with the enhancements made towards your brain development taken into consideration...”

It was all his fault.

His son’s obsession with aliens and the paranormal.

 _All of it_ was _his_ fault.

The result of mistakes and failures he’d made even _before_ he’d began calling himself a father.

“Dad...” Dib’s voice caused the Professor to raise his head. And when he did, what he saw deeply pained him.

Dib was crying again, and all Membrane could do was sit there and watch the tears fall since any movement from him made Dib flinch and take another step back.

“... Am I a clone?” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. Full of hurt and a sense of betrayal.

“Oh, _son_...” he wanted to do or say something to console him. But the most he could do without causing the boy to run off was to express his own feelings of regret and pity. “I thought you knew...”

Dib’s gaze flickered down towards Gaz, who had not said a word in the longest time. Looking to her seemingly for reassurance that this was all new information to _both_ of them.

“Dib...” She said her brother’s name almost hesitantly. The situation they were in having taken a turn that was making her only increasingly uncomfortable with each passing moment. “Dad’s always been obvious about what we were.”

“What we...” Dib’s expression suddenly darkened. “We're just experiments.”

“NO!” Membrane denied, subconsciously getting to his feet and slapping his hands down on the table before he even realized what he was doing.

By the time he’d registered his own actions and received the corrective shock for them, Dib had already jumped down from the kitchen table and was making a break for the stairs.

“Son...?!” Membrane turned his head and caught the briefest glimmer of the boy vanishing through the entryway. “Son, come back!”

He followed after him, catching up just in time for Dib to slam the door in his face with all his might.

The Professor’s hand immediately flew up to cup his nose, a trickling warmth indicating it was broken and bleeding from the impact. But a broken and bloody nose was the least of his concern right now.

“Son!” He called out, one hand reaching into his coat pocket for a handkerchief as the other tried the doorknob. Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, it was locked. “Son, open the door!”

No reply came. There was just the shuffling of tiny feet and what sounded like multiple objects being dragged across the floor.

Dib was barricading the door from him.

“ _Son...!_ ” He knocked on the door hard enough to make it rattle on its hinges.

Still no response.

Seems it was time to actually utilize that one bit of advice from the parenting books he had avoided utilizing till now.

He had really hoped it would never come to this...

The Professor took in a breath to steel his temper and calm himself as much as he could. Grunting through the painful shocks that went off from his harness that had been going off with progressively increased intensity since he’d begun going after Dib.

“Son...” He began knocking again with much less force once he had managed to level his breathing. The conditioning shocks tapering off and letting him catch his breath. “I'm respecting your privacy by knocking,”—he took a step back and wound up one of his arms, the gears hissing in preparation—“but asserting my authority as your father by coming in anyway!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZRV2eEdTIE0


	6. Chapter 6

The door flew backward off its frame with a single blow from the Professor’s metal fist. The hodgepodge collection of furniture making up the barricade set behind it coming apart as the force of his punch sent everything falling to the floor.

Following the busting down of the door was high pitched screaming. The origin being none other than Membrane’s own son.

But before the Professor could try to calm the boy down, he was forced to quickly duck to avoid being hit in the head by the three-inch-thick history book hurled towards him.

“Son—“

“Get out!”

Another object, a lamp, was thrown at him this time. Membrane being forced to sidestep to avoid it.

“Get out! _Get out! GET OUT!_ ” Dib proceeded to continue throwing whatever he could get his hands on at him.

“Son, please—“

“YOU _AREN’T_ MY DAD!”

The shock of hearing those words screeched at him was enough to cause the Professor to stall in his movements. Allowing the next object that was thrown, Dib’s treasured briefcase, to hit him square in the jaw. The latches of the case popping open and causing its contents to spill out onto the floor. The sight causing Dib’s expression to become even more sullen as he watched the papers flutter to the ground that he scrambled to collect while sniffling and trying to hold back tears.

As he gathered his alien research materials, Membrane quietly knelt down on the floor beside him but dared not to try inching and closer than he already was. Watching as the boy attempt to file things into the order they’d been in previously before making a move to help. The fingers of his gloved hand barely brushed against one of the blurry old fashioned polaroids before it was snatched away from him.

“You _aren’t_ my dad.” Dib repeated as he shut the last of the materials away in the case.

“Of _course_ I am, son.” The Professor said softly, forgetting himself in the moment and reaching to cup the side of the boy’s face.

“No, _you’re NOT!_ ” Dib jerked away from him before he could even touch him, standing and backing away with his briefcase tightly clutched to his chest for protection. “You’re just some _crazy_ egomaniac scientist who cloned himself just because he _could!_ ”

“That isn’t true!”

Except it was.

That _had_ been the very reason why he had started the project that gave him the gifts that were his children to begin with. What had given him a chance at having a _family_ again at all.

“You aren’t just any run of the mill experiment!”

At first, yes, but the first time he held his infant son in his arms, such thoughts ceased almost entirely. The instant attachment he held for the little bundle overpowering any thoughts of scientific advancement he had in a way he previously never believed possible.

“And yet all I am is just some _failed copy of **you**!_” An accusing finger was pointed at the Professor.

“Son, you were never intended to be—“

“What were you thinking about after you made me then, huh? Huh?! Why did you make _Gaz?!_ Was she just sort of backup plan?!” Dib got up close and personal to his father, pushing the hard edge of the briefcase he carried against his chest. “All you _really_ wanted was an heir to take after you, isn’t it?”

“That’s not—”

“Don’t _lie_ to me, _Professor Membrane._ ”

Somehow, being addressed so hatefully by his full name hurt more than both the door being slammed in his face and having the hardshell briefcase thrown at his head combined. So much that he stopped breathing entirely, as though someone had taken him by the throat and was actively choking him. A sensation much different from what he usually experienced when on the brink of an anxiety attack.

“... Get out.” Dib had taken his stunned silence for his final answer. Pushing at him in an attempt to knock him off balance. “Get out and stop _pretending_ like you actually _care_ about me!”

The Professor found his body moving entirely on its own as if on autopilot. His breathing was still near nonexistent, causing his heart rate to rapidly increase as his ears became filled with a high pitched ringing. And his mind was whirling nonstop, the words and physical objects Dib had thrown at him playing back over and over. Continuing long after he’d made his way to his bedroom to give himself a shot of diazepam.

He gave the medication some time to kick in, leaning against the dresser and listing the different elements of the periodic table under his breath by column to further calm himself. As the drug began kicking in, emotional numbness washing over him, he took the opportunity to take proper lungfuls of air. His head gradually becoming free of the anxiety induced fog gripping it, allowing him to think clearly on his next move while he tended to his broken nose.

He could still fix things.

He _could_ still fix things…!

Digging through the closet, he pulled out the book he had wrapped and hidden away to give to Dib on his birthday.

It was a day early, but given the circumstances the difference on whether he gave it now or later was moot.

“Son...?” He called out as he stepped into the hall, turning the corner to where the boy’s bedroom was located.

The door had been propped back up into place against its frame with additional furniture piled up behind it.

 _Again_.

In retrospect, Membrane was beginning to realize that punching it down _maaaaybe_ hadn’t been the best idea. Even if it had been recommended in one of the—admittedly not as highly rated—parenting books he had spent hours memorizing. All it had done was make matters worse.

_What had he been thinking?_

_**BZZT.** _

“Son...” The Professor lightly rapped his knuckles on the door. Internally muttering to himself how he would need to get the proper power tools from the garage to fix it at some point. “Son, I know you’re still in there.”

He attempted to peer through the gaps of the door to try and get a glimpse at the boy somehow. But where ever he was positioned, it was somewhere he couldn’t see unless he moved to take the door down again. The thought of even doing so not seeming at all appealing given the present results from the last time. Even without the added shock from his harness telling him not to.

He would just have to hope talking would be enough.

“I have something here for you,” He started, holding the neatly wrapped gift he was referring to carefully in front of him. Acting as though Dib could see him through the barricade. “A birthday present…! A day early, I know, but I thought it would be for the best if I give it to you now, if you wanted it.”

Membrane allowed for a few seconds to tick by before speaking up again. Straining his ears to hear at least _some_ sort of sound from the other side of the door. Any indication that his son was there. Listening.

“You don’t need to come out if you don’t want to...!” He waved a hand as one would to tell someone to stay seated while they took care of things. “I’ll just... Go ahead and open it up for you and tell you what it is. How does that sound?”

Membrane waited a few seconds again for a response.

But just like before, there was nothing. Either Dib wasn’t still in his room like he thought, having possibly snuck out through the window, or he was ignoring him.

He hoped to all that was good in the universe that it was the latter.

With a sigh, the Professor began slowly tearing away the wrapping paper. Taking his time and not in any hurry to be finished with the task. Giving his son additional time to pop up somewhere behind the door where he could see him through the cracks.

But even after all the wrapping paper had been torn away, he still hadn’t.

“It’s... The Collector’s Edition of that one book series you once asked me to read you a volume of before bed. When you were six.” Membrane stared down at the cover and ran his gloved prosthetic fingers over the intricate design grooves. Collector’s Editions, no matter what genre of work they were, were always bound in a vaguely antique fashion that made them more showpieces than actual books. “True Ghost Stories by—Ah, but I suppose... they _can't_ be true if they didn't actually—”

No.

_**BZZT.** _

No, don’t say that.

**_BZZT._ **

_Why_ would you say that?

BZZT.

“Not that... You think that or it's... Nonsense or—”

_**BZZT.** _

“Ah I mean—”

 _Start over_ _—_

_**BZZT.** _

_Start over NOW!_

He cleared his throat and took in a deep breath before trying again. When he spoke again he had pulled out the best presentation delivering voice he could muster. The usual unbreakable confidence and strength behind his words were however lacking. An obvious trace of vulnerability laced between each word.

“Son, I got you this for your birthday cause these things are important to you and thought you would appreciate it. I…” He attempted to steel his nerves, gripping the book in his hands just a bit tighter. But then his voice faltered, growing nearly as quiet as the deafening silence on the other side of the door. “I will just... Leave it here for you…”

Membrane sighed in defeat as he carefully wedged the book in between the ill-placed door and its frame before he turned and walked away. But as he reached the end of the hall, the sound of the door finally opening caused him to stall.

And then a hard object smacked him in the back of the head. Not hard enough to cause his rigid stance to falter, but enough to make him wince as he turned to see what it was.

On the ground was the Collector’s Edition book. The spine now slightly dented.

“I don’t want your _pity gift!_ ”

The Professor wasn’t able to lift his gaze fast enough. By the time his eyes had turned back to Dib’s bedroom door, he had vanished behind his barricade of furniture again.

‘ _pity_ _gift’_ …

So even _that_ had backfired in the end…

Picking up the discarded book, he carried it with him down the stairs and into the kitchen. Hardly registering how Gaz was still seated there, waiting, just like she’d been before he went after Dib. Only now the table had been cleared of what had been left of dinner, suggesting that she had cleaned up and done the dishes without Membrane having even told her to.

“Didn’t go well, huh?” She asked as he sunk down into his chair, setting the book down on the table and burying his face in his hands. When he said nothing, and likely saw his shoulders shaking, she spoke up again in a much quieter voice. “Dad... You okay...?”

He wasn’t.

Amongst shaky breaths, he had begun listing elements as he had done before. Picking up where he had left off the last time.

“Titanium: discovered in 1791 by Reverend William Gregor. Zirconium: discovered in 1789 by Martin Heinrich Klaproth…” The Professor kept listing them just to have something else to focus his mind on. Stopping at Vanadium when he felt Gaz climb up into his lap.

Without a word, he uncovered his face and used his arms to hug his daughter to him tightly. Not too tightly to hurt, he never wanted it to hurt, but tight enough. Membrane held onto her as though she were a lifeline, burrowing his face into her tiny shoulder as she silently pat the back of his head.

* * *

Three hours later, Professor Membrane was pacing back and forth in the kitchen. He was rambling to himself and would flinch every few seconds when a shock coursed through his body over a thought or comment he’d made. The pained jolts growing in frequency and becoming difficult to hide as he continued walking in circles.

On the table sat a birthday cake. The reason he’d been arguing with himself for the past ten minutes now.

The cake was for tomorrow when Cynthia was meant to drop by for Dib's small birthday celebration. However, Dib hadn’t eaten much of dinner earlier before he’d locked himself in his room. And now the Professor was contemplating over whether or not—in another attempt to set things right— \he should bring his son a piece.

Children liked sweets, and sugar brought about the release of endorphins that could temporarily improve a person’s mood. Therefore, scientific data paired with a need of food consumption dictated that giving Dib something sweet to eat could only be beneficial!

But his mind would just play back what had happened. How trying to make up with his son by giving him his gift early had ended in failure.

_“I don’t want your pity gift!”_

Pity.

Would his son just think the Professor was still pitying him if he brought him cake?

**_BZZT._ **

“But he _has_ to eat!” Membrane continued to try and rationalize. “He’s a growing boy! He needs the calories! Though, calories from sweets obviously aren’t—“

 _ **BZZZT**_.

He bit back a cry of pain as a hand flew to the back of his neck.

“But the sugar will theoretically improve his mood!” He raised his voice an octave. “That’s not a bad—“

_**BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT.** _

The Professor practically fell to his knees with a yell. The behavioral adjustment chip in his harness not letting up in its assault. The delivered shock’s duration persisting well over a minute and leaving him gasping for air and whimpering like a sad puppy once it tapered off. The hand, the one not clutching at his neck, having found purchase digging into the kitchen counter his forehead was now pressed against.

“...Dad,” Gaz’s voice caused him to snap to attention, standing straight with squared shoulders. “What’s with the cake?”

“Ah...” The Professor took a moment to collect himself and put on a mask of neutral emotion before answering. Turning to face where his daughter stood in the entryway with hands clasped behind her back. “That’s your brother’s birthday cake that was meant for tomorrow.”

“What’s it doing on the table then?” Gaz raised a brow as she looked between her father and the cake.

“Ah... I was... Contemplating whether or not I should bring him up a piece.” Membrane explained, speaking a tad slower than he would under normal circumstances just to keep his voice level. “I’ve yet to reach a decision with... How many variables there are to consider...”

Gaz studied him for a moment, trepidation ceasing the Professor briefly as he wondered if the addition he’d made to his spinal harness had been found out. But he mentally sighed in relief when that didn’t appear to be the case. His daughter coming forward to stand in front of him and raising up an arm towards him and making grabby hand motions.

Did she... Want a hug...?

That was... Not usual behavior he’d come to expect from his daughter. But then again, perhaps she was only doing so for his sake?

Either way, it just wouldn’t do for him to refuse her.

Bending down, Membrane pulled his daughter in close for a hug. Her little arms wrapping around his neck instantly.

Before he realized what was happening, something small and thin was wedged between his neck and his harness. And then something was sharply ripped out, forcing him to release his daughter as he fell forward midst a cry of pain.

The Professor caught himself with an arm, his other hand clasping around his neck where the pain originated.

“Gazlene... What did you...?” He raised his head and blanched when he saw what she holding out for him to see.

In the hand Gaz had been keeping held behind her back she tightly gripped a pair of hemostat pliers. And clenched between the jaws of those pliers was a seemingly harmless chip with torn and frayed wires. Only the Professor knew the actual importance it held.

She’d torn out his behavior modulator.

How had she—

“Ah, wait...!” He weakly held up a hand to stop his daughter when she threw the modulator chip onto the tile floor. “I need—“

“You’re not a dog!” She stomped on and ground the chip into pieces beneath her boot. Maintaining eye contact with him the whole while. “Stop thinking you need to be trained like one!”

Membrane just looked dejectedly at the floor where the modulator had been crushed.

“But...”

"You and Dib can be so _stupid_ sometimes.” Gaz shook her head as she grabbed him by the lab coat where he knelt, forcing her to look at her. “You _don't need_ to shock yourself into being a good dad...” Her gaze softened then as she quietly added. “We already love you."

Professor Membrane felt compelled to say he begged to differ.

Dib obviously felt otherwise and had made that fact _very_ clear.

“Dib’s just being Dib,” Gaz seemed to know what he was thinking just from his expression alone. “He doesn’t _actually_ mean whatever he said.”

She hugged him for real this time, no ulterior motive behind the action.

“I’ll talk to him.” With that she let him go and started heading up the stairs, taking the entire tray of birthday cake up with her before her father could even say anything.

Membrane at first did nothing but linger in the kitchen, still knelt on the floor, before he managed to will himself into following his daughter. Creeping up the stairs in an attempt to not be heard by either of his children. A rather tricky feat given his size, stature, and _weight_. His prostheses had him weighing at well over 320 pounds, about 20% heavier than what was estimated as the max weight for a male of 6’11''. And it didn’t help that his rocket boots—which weren’t designed with stealth in mind at all—and his metal exoskeleton just added to this weight further.

Yet, somehow, he managed to successfully make his way up the stairs without drawing Gaz’s attention. Poking his head to peer down the hall to Dib’s bedroom where she currently stood.

“Hey, _Dib_ ,” She shouted while delivering a swift kick to the damaged door. The slab of wood having seen more abuse today than it had in the last several years. “Dad got you cake!”

A moment of silence followed in which Membrane heard nothing. But Dib had clearly responded, given how Gaz replied in kind in a voice much softer than what she’d used moments ago.

“Nah, it’s just me, Bonehead.”

There was the shuffling of furniture being moved, the barricade being shoved aside, before the door itself was. It now rested against its frame at an angle and with enough space for Gaz to duck her head under, allowing her to slip on into the room without dropping the cake onto the floor.

Then nothing…

The Professor hears nothing coming from his son’s bedroom. Dib and Gaz were talking, this he knew for sure, but they were… Surprisingly _quiet_.

He could hear none of their usual fighting.

No raised voices.

Unable to help himself, he risks moving closer to have a better chance of eavesdropping on their conversation. But he doesn’t make it more than a few steps before he hears something and is unable to go any further.

He could hear his daughter’s voice, hushed and soft-spoken, as she talked to her brother.

And he could hear his boy crying…

That sound alone, and knowing he was responsible, was too much for him to bear. The Professor slowly turning on his heels and making his way over to his bedroom instead.

When Gaz finally left Dib’s room and went in search of him, she would find him sitting at the edge of his bed, staring at the floor and lost in his thoughts. Reacting only when she called out to him with a question on the tip of his tongue that she answered before he could even ask it.

“He’s still mad at you. And no, he’s not coming out of his room.” She said, walking over and pulling herself up onto the bed next to him. Leaning into him for a quiet moment before continuing. "...He liked the cake, though."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter for this part to go
> 
> And then it's Florpus time, babes


	7. Chapter 7

It had been a week.

A week and Dib still hadn’t come out of his room since Professor Membrane had fixed his door.

He wouldn’t come out for anything.

Not for meals.

Not for skool.

Nothing.

The Professor was beginning to grow more and more worried with each passing day. Unsure of what exactly he was meant to do or how to fix things. Every point of reference he checked for guidance all said something different. And if not, it was some variation of something he’s already read or tried. Even Cynthia’s advice—after she’d spoken to Dib and had finished lecturing him for poor parental conduct—was just more of the same.

_“Be patient and give him time, Fess. You can’t force this.”_

Time and patience.

 _Time_ and _patience_.

The very things he’d already been giving him that didn’t seem to be working in the slightest.

 _Nothing_ seemed to work with that boy.

There was essentially nothing he could do. Not until Dib willingly let him back in.

_“Fess, stop! Just breathe, alright? It isn’t the end of the world.”_

At the very least, despite her lecturing him, Cynthia didn’t hold him entirely at fault for what happened. Only the punching down of Dib’s door. Going so far as to demanding he show her what book held such horrible parenting advice in it so she could file a complaint to the publishing company.

_“Parents and their children have falling outs all the time.”_

Cynthia had also made it a point for him to attend weekly parenting classes. Classes she signed him up for under the name of one of her three sons. A way for him to go while dressed incognito and avoiding any additional drama being brought onto him and his family.

So as far as anyone else was concerned, he wasn’t Professor Membrane, he was Luis Flores. At least according to the signup sheet.

_“Dib is still young, he won’t hate you forever.”_

He could only hope that she was right about that.

But the Professor couldn’t shake the guilt he now felt. Not only was he responsible for his son developing all his outlandish beliefs, but he was also now responsible for crushing his entire world view. Yes, he had always wanted for him to eventually give up all the fantastical paranormal nonsense—

But _not_ like this.

 _Never_ like this.

He had only just begun humoring and letting him have his fun. Just started letting him be a _kid_ with wacky beliefs for however much longer of a childhood he had before he’d inevitably have to grow up.

Now he would have to much too soon.

He’d successfully _ruined_ his son’s childhood.

So it wasn’t all that surprising that he found himself turning to the only other person he knew he could confide in on this. Someone he had come to trust even more than Lucius with his more private concerns. The parent of his son’s little friend, a fellow single parent struggling with two children of their own.

"You punched down his door?" Their disbelief at hearing him admit to such an act was palpable. “Seriously?”

“It was in one of the books I’d been reading...! And it just seemed like a good idea at the time!” Membrane attempted to argue in his defense as he paced back and forth in his home lab. Using the actual handheld phone over his headset just to keep one of his hands occupied. The other free to make various hand gestures. “I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking straight!”

“You honestly don’t strike me as straight to begin with.”

“... Pardon?” That effectively managed to halt him in his tracks. Confusion replacing tension and unease.

“Sorry, I was making a joke.” The other explained. “To try and calm you down a bit.”

“A joke...? What type of... _Oh!_ ” Professor held a hand over his shielded mouth as he laughed. The first time he’d actually laughed in _days_. “Well, you’re not _wrong._ I don’t have a preference for _any_ gender on the spectrum.”

“... Huh,” The other paused as that info sunk in. “Wasn’t expecting my educated guesses to be right for once.”

“I find that surprising, given how perceptive you seem to be. You’re much like my daughter in that regard.” Membrane let out a soft sigh as his mood became somber once more. “Thank you for that laugh, I truly needed it.”

“Don’t mention it.” The other chuckled softly. “So, when are these parenting classes you’re meant to take starting?”

“Next Thursday evening.” The Professor rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he’d formed since... “I never wanted for it to come to this sort of thing. It’s an embarrassment really. I had thought installing a behavior modulator into my prostheses harness would have been more than enough...”

“... ‘Behavior modulator’...?”

“Ah...” Oops. “Yes... Well...” He lowered his hand from his neck as he let himself sink into a wheeled office chair positioned near his desk. “Before Gazlene had removed it, I had a small chip installed that was synched up to the implants in my brain.” He pointed towards his head, even though there was now way for the other to see. “The purpose of it was to deal an electric shock whenever I said or did something that negatively impacted either of my children.”

“You... Gave yourself a jolt of electricity every time you acted out...?” It was hard to determine what the other’s reaction was. They seemed to be struggling to process what he’d just said. “That sounds... _Nice_ , actually.”

Wait—

“What?”

_Did his companion have some sort of electrocution fe—_

“Uuuh—I mean...!” The other appeared to realize after the fact that what they said was more than a tad odd. “I am normal human parent, not a computer.” They started speaking as if they were a robot. “Beep Boop...”

“... ‘Beep Boop’...?”

“Uuuh...”

Membrane had a feeling he knew what was gonna happen next.

“Gotta—”

“Wait!” He stopped them before they could hang up. “Don’t go just yet... _please_.”

“... Alright.”

“Thank you... I just...” He sank back in his lo chair and sighed. “...Am I... Am I a terrible parent, my friend?”

“...Wha—?” The other stuttered. “I...”

“Sorry,” the Professor apologized, realizing what he’d asked of them was likely too much. “perhaps I shouldn’t have—“

“No...!” They said quickly. “I mean...” A pause as they seemed to collect their thoughts. “I know terrible parents and... You're not one of them...”

Membrane let out a quiet sigh of relief at that. The tension leaving his shoulders.

“You talk about your kids a lot, and want the best for them... And I’m pretty sure not every parent ever one-hundred percent understands their kids."

"Ah... yes...” The Professor slowly nodded in understanding. What the other had said calming a lot of his nerves. “Thank you and... Sorry for feeling the need to ask such a thing,” he apologized while dragging a gloved hand down his face. He felt the lack of sleep this past week beginning to take a toll on him. “Your little ZiM and his robot must be quite the handful too."

"......Yeah..." The other confirmed. “It can be... tiring... _Very_ tiring.” They sounded far more exhausted all of a sudden. As if they hadn’t properly slept for a much period longer than the Professor himself. Several weeks, even.

“Have you been sleeping alright?” Membrane decided to broach and was met with a long beat of silence.

The silence was then followed by defeated laughter.

“I haven’t slept in years. I just physically _can’t_ …”

He frowned at that.

While it was surely an exaggeration, that didn’t bode well at all.

But before the Professor could ask, again, if there was anything he could do to be of help—

“Uuuuuugh, I really do have to go now...” The other sighed. “GIR made a mess of the kitchen again while I wasn’t looking.”

“Ah...”

“Oh, but before I do...” the other started just as Membrane began getting up from his chair. “Even if Dib doesn’t respond or come out of his room, just...”

“Yes...?”

“Keep talking to him.”

“And... You think that will help...?” Membrane started rubbing at the back of his neck again. “I’m not sure he’s even listening to me and I feel anything I say will make it worse....”

“I... Well... I do have... _Similar_ problems with my m— _ZiM_.” The other began to explain. “We don’t...we haven't had... ‘ _fights_ ’ exactly... But...” They seemed to hesitate before continuing. “Sometimes he gets... Real quiet and sad at points... And he just _doesn’t_ respond to anyone. He’ll even stare at a wall for _hours_. But... I know he listens.” Their confidence seemed to return to them by the end. “I just need to keep talking to him, and he responds eventually.”

“Is...” the Professor lowered his hand from his neck. “Is that the _best_ method?”

“... Honestly,” The other sighed. “it’s a lot of guesswork.”

Membrane let out a light chuckle at that.

“Seems that’s how it is with making almost all decisions as a parent.” He smoothed back his hair, which was currently frayed and messy. The only visual indication—other than the increased noticeability of the bags under his eyes—of how this whole ordeal was affecting him. “No two children are the same. So no matter how much information and data you collect...”

“There’s no guarantee of producing the same results in your own child.”

“Unfortunately.” He sighed. “But, I think I will do what you suggest in regards to talking to him. He’ll have to say something back _eventually_. Even if it is just to yell for me to go away.” He smiled softly. “Thank you, my friend... I really do appreciate us being able to talk like this.”

“I do too...” The other admitted sincerely. “Anyway... I got a kitchen to clean... For the _second time today_...” They were back to sounding entirely done and fed up with life. Membrane wondered just how often the little robot made a mess to garner such a response. “I’ll call you around the same time tomorrow.”

“Take care,” Membrane said in farewell. “Do try to find some time for yourself. You really seem as though you could use the rest.”

“I know...” They sighed again. “Later.”

* * *

Weeks continued to pass. Dib still refused to come out of his room.

Bringing the boy his meals, as well as his skool work, had become a daily norm in the Membrane household. The member responsible for doing so shifting between Gaz and the Professor like retail workers changing shifts. One week the Professor would take care of morning and afternoon meals while Gaz handled dinner and other matters, and then it would be flipped the following week.

Weeks then became months.

It was the middle of summer.

And still Dib. Would. _Not_. Come. _Out_.

Even with Membrane attending the parenting classes regularly, mostly spent relearning things he already taught himself, and talking to Dib through the door. He still remained holed up in his room with the only one allowed entry being Gaz. But at this point even she was beginning to grow fed up with the new routine they had to live with.

Mainly due to her claims on how her brother was really beginning to develop a... _unique_ smell after not bathing in so long. One which the Professor himself didn’t notice, but only due to the years of working with chemicals, and now the various medications he took, causing him to develop Hyposmia. He was physically unable to detect what it was his daughter claimed to smell. So when Gaz asked he make her a special suit to combat against the smell, he agreed due to his inability to dispute otherwise.

From that point on she wore it any time she had to go upstairs, even to just go to bed. And Membrane made it a point to further encourage his son to look after his personal hygiene through the door when it was his turn to bring him his meals. Because even if he didn’t come out of his room to spend time with him or Gaz, he still had to come out to use the bathroom...

He... _Did_ come out to use the bathroom, right?

That would be an extra cause for concern if he wasn’t. Perhaps he should monitor the hallway to make sure he was...

On top of everything that has transpired, Professor Membrane had also made it a point to further reduce how often he worked at the lab. Just so he could be at home as much as possible for when Dib inevitably came down the stairs one day. Only leaving the house for his daily jog or when they needed more groceries.

For some reason, they ran out of honey rather frequently. He didn’t know where the jars were going. Just that not even a day after he would buy some it would go missing the next day. Membrane suspected perhaps his daughter was taking the jars for her brother in secret, but he has no evidence with which he could prove this theory. Not yet at least.

The strangest thing to happen during the passing months was what he encountered upon deciding to start taking up lawn care. An activity he thought of just to have something else to do with his hands and pass time other than working on the Peace Day Edition Membracelet or other projects.

It happened when he went to get one of the lawnmowers out of the garage from amongst all of Dib’s parascience garbage and other things they had tossed in there that no longer fit in the house. One of the lamps modeled after his image was included amongst the junk, one he _hadn’t_ smashed in the midst of a mental breakdown.

“Looks as if this will be difficult.” The Professor mused aloud as he looked past all the piles of junk, a hand held a hand over his goggles to shield his vision from the sun’s glare. There was a lot he was going to have to move and rearrange in order to create a path he could more easily maneuver the lawnmower in and out through. And he was already mapping out what could be pushed where in his mind as he set to work.

Thankfully moving things aside wasn’t as strenuous as it had been when he had first helped move everything here.

He’d been moving things around for nearly an hour by the time he had cleared the way to one of the lawnmowers. A layer of sweat had already accumulated under his lab coat, forcing him to remove it and toss it over one of the piles of junk for the time being. Once he was finished here he would definitely need to take another shower.

“Alright, let’s see here...” Membrane approached the odd lawnmower, his chin cupped in thought as he tried to determine how it worked.

It was an odd thing, resembling more of a sci-fi spaceship than a lawnmower now that he got a better look at it. Only it _couldn’t possibly_ be a spaceship. More than likely it was just some plaything, a project of Dib’s that he had been working on to attempt space travel on his own.

Another cause for concern, but one he would save for another day.

With a sigh, the Professor did a small set of stretches as he prepared to push the thing aside. Snapping his spine in a few places and flexing his prosthetic joints before reaching out.

_**“Don’t touch me you disgusting—“** _

The thing suddenly speaking caught Membrane off guard, causing him to flail his arms whilst stepping back. And if not for the safety mechanisms in his arms, he may have fired off a PEG blast or even activated the energy claws unintentionally. Much like a cat would do when they were startled or felt threatened.

 ** _“Wait a minute... YOU’RE not Dib!”_** It continued as he took on a stance that looked as though he were getting ready to physically throw down with the piece of machinery. _**“Who ARE you?”**_

“Uuuuh...”

Well...This was definitely an... _Unexpected_ development.

It seemed as though his son had created _another_ AI ever since the incident with the original Foodio prototypes. And another seemingly aggressive one at that. Disconcerting, to say the least, given how violent and destructive the first had been. And that went without mentioning how difficult _stopping_ said rampaging AI had been. Thankfully though, this one was stuck and incapable of going anywhere or doing anything. Otherwise it should have done _something_ by now, right?

Straightening his stance, Membrane cleared his throat before answering the question the AI had posed.

“Professor Membrane, Dib’s father.” He held a hand towards his chest.

 _ **“Don’t care.”**_ The AI responded.

“I... You were the one who asked who I was...?”

_**“Whatever.”** _

Well then.

 _ **“Listen, human.”**_ It continued. _**“I don’t give a flying dookie who you are. Especially if you’re somehow related to that Dib-moron.”**_

Professor Membrane narrowed his eyes as one of them twitched in annoyance.

This AI his son has created was _incredibly_ rude!

He had half a mind of giving it a literal attitude adjustment just so it’d be more polite. And he _would_ have too, if not for the fact that it was the work of his son. Clearly something he had to have spent a lot of time on and was still developing.

“... I’m going to move you out of the way so I can get to the lawnmower now.”

**_“NO, NO, GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF—“_ **

The ship AI started yelling the second he moved to lift it up off the concrete flooring. Its voice glitching and cutting off completely when he set it down unceremoniously in the middle of the garage. Likely the jostling of its mechanisms had loosened a few wires and hardware components. Though the Professor doubted he would know which ones those were without opening up his son’s little project and tinkering around inside it. If any had actually fallen loose at all.

So at best all he _could_ do was give it an experimental nudge with his foot.

Doing so got the ship yelling at him again for a good while before its voice pattered out just like before. The Professor choosing to ignore the random collection of insults it threw his way as he retrieved his prize and redonning his coat. And he was unable to help but sigh as he closed up the garage behind him.

That boy and his inventions...

* * *

A few more weeks went by, marking it the beginning August.

At this point, Professor Membrane had hit a bit of a metaphorical wall in both his parenting classes _and_ how the Membracelet’s would effectively channel the Childergy they harnessed. That last wall _should_ have been far trickier to get over than the first, except it wasn’t. The first wall was the one giving him the most trouble.

He had reached a point where it felt he was being taught _nothing_ that could be of use for the current situation he was in with his son. Sure, everything else was helpful, yes. But learning them had no value if Dib never came out of his room to put them in action.

“The Turners even suggested I get him out of his room using a _battering ram_!” The Professor—still dressed in civilian clothing and prosthetic skin coverings—vented to his friend on the other end of the phone. “A _battering ram_ , when busting down his door is part of the reason things have turned out the way they are!” He dragged a hand down his face before lowering his head onto his work desk. “I wouldn’t be surprised if someone from their backward thinking town was the one who publicized the blasted book with that advice in it.”

“Are these the same people who on the first day of class said they wanted a girl but ‘settled’ for their son?” The other questioned, wholly familiar by now with the different members of Membrane’s parenting class.

“They are.” Membrane confirmed with a sigh. “And of course, that Smackey fellow was _no_ help. As always his ideas are either composed of complete stupidity or based in violence.”

“Which was it _this_ time?”

“Stupidity.”

_“If he won’t come out of his room, just push the food into his room under the door. Though... Ah... Not a lot of the food will make it. Most of it will get stuck on your side... Ah... And it might make it harder for him to get out.”_

“What about the others there? What did they have to say?” The Professor’s phone call companion probed. More than into listening and actively encouraged him to rant and rave about his classmates as if they lived off the drama. “Like the Fentons? Or the Patakis?”

“Equally as unhelpful.” Membrane sighed as he rubbed circles into the flesh of his cheek, tugging at his eye bags as he did.

_“Involve him in an activity! Force him to go ghost hunting and call it camping!”_

_“...That didn't really work out well for us either though.”_

“And as always, Mrs. Patakis seemed just as out of it as she had been the first class when she was directed to cut back on her drinking.”

“And the teach?”

“Threatened to call security and have her charged with public intoxication again if she didn’t shape up.” He pushed up his glasses he was wearing in place of his headset and began rubbing his eyes. “As for _his_ solution of what to do with Dib, nothing I hadn’t already considered or tried.”

The Professor heard the other make some kind of sound that he assumed was an expression of equal disappointment.

“Well, at the very least you yourself seem to be doing better handling the situation.” They said. “You sound more like your usual self these days.”

Membrane couldn’t help but laugh at that observation. A loud belly laugh that caused him to hold his stomach with his free hand until he settled down.

“That’s only because I’ve managed to regain and perfect my acting skills again.” He said with a cheery smile that completely contradicted with what he was actually saying in both tone and mood. “I’m actually less than a hair’s width away from having another breakdown and may even need to raise my medication dosage for the fifth time in the last few months.”

“Oh fuck…” The other cursed, the first time Professor Membrane had heard them do so. “I had no idea.”

“Well if you did, then that would just mean I was doing a shoddy job at keeping up appearances.” Membrane gave a forced laugh again, still speaking as though everything beyond his irritation with the other parents he had to put up with was all sunshine and rainbows. “But, I actually do have good news!” He continued as he sat upright again. “Your advice on keeping up conversation through the door has _finally_ resulted in success! My boy spoke to me for the first time in months yesterday!”

“Oh?” The other seemed a bit surprised but also pleased.

“Yes! It was only about how I should just leave the food outside his door like I always did, but I still consider that progress!” The fake smile the Professor wore finally fell away as he let his true feelings show. “It… It _is_ progress… Yes?”

“Yeah, I’d say that’s progress.” The other affirmed, sensing the sudden shift. “Hey… Why don’t we talk about something else?” They suggested. “Didn’t you say there was a project you were working on? Something for Peace Day?”

“Ah, yes!”

The Professor allowed himself to easily slip into explaining the boundless energy of children without a second thought. Telling his longtime phone call partner about how he had dubbed that energy “Childergy” and if he could successfully channel and harnessed, the world would be a more peaceful place. He simply hadn’t figured out _how_.

“Well… If the energy is being channeled outward…” The other mused as they seemed to be doing calculations of their own. “A more powerful physical link could potentially form if all the Membracelet wearing children held hands. Thus increasing the overall output.”

“That…” Membrane was at a loss for words briefly. “My friend, you are a _genius!_ ” He stood up from his chair and began pacing around the room in glee. Starting to babble and talk aloud, mainly to himself, about how the energy output could be increased _even further_ if he got children _all around_ the planet to hold hands. Thus successfully radiating peace and joy around the whole world as he'd planned.

“Haha, you know…” The other started almost hesitantly. “ _Theoretically_ if there was a tiny purple space moose capable of harnessing the dark energy of space… It _could theoretically_ cause an intergalactic Stargate to form via a… _Theoretical_ space horror blob getting attached to the bracelets.”

“Well…” The Professor chuckled. “It’s a good thing such things don’t exist then.”

“… Yeah… It’s a good thing they _don’t.._.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've reached the end of all the Pre-Florpus shenanigans!
> 
> Join us in the next part for seeing the entire movie's events from our man Fess' perspective in: “PROFESSOR MEMBRANE: Enter the Incredible Hallucination”
> 
> Also, Computer at the end be like:  
> "Oops... Well, so long as the master doesn't catch wind of this and has the same idea--"  
> \--ZiM gets the same idea--  
> "FUCK"


End file.
